The End of the Beginning
by Anfield
Summary: Sequel to "Making New Scars." Jax/OC, Chibs/OC. Picks up where that story left off. Will likely be quite gritty, violent, sexual. I'd LOVE some feedback!
1. Chapter 1

Waking up alone, again, Jax sighed and reached for his cigarettes. In the three weeks since that awful night, when V. had learned of her brother's deception and killed King Leo, he'd only woken up a couple of times with her still next to him. If she was sleeping at all, he didn't know when it was. And it wasn't just her not sleeping. Since the morning after that night, when he'd opened his eyes to see her sitting on the floor, their bloody clothes in her lap, her face blank, he'd felt her pull farther away from him every day. That morning, he'd climbed out of bed and moved towards her on the floor, trying to take her in his arms, but she'd pulled away. When she met his eyes, he could read nothing in them. "What do you do," she asked slowly, looking back down into her lap, "when killing them isn't enough?" She shook her head slightly, and Jax had the impression she was talking to herself more than to him. "All this blood," she murmured. "And he's still here."

Jax knew that if he got up now, he'd find her in the clubhouse's main room, shooting pool balls randomly, or curled up on the couch with a book. Or, even more likely, he'd find her behind the garage, throwing increasingly difficult combinations of punches and kicks at the heavy bag. She'd worked that bag for hours nearly every day over the past weeks. He could feel the change in her body, her already muscular frame taking on a harder edge. Though he couldn't say he liked the idea of her losing her curves, he thought, at first, that hitting the bag was probably good for her, giving her a place to put her pain and her rage. The more she did it, though, the more it seemed only to increase those feelings in her.

He'd tried, as recently as the previous night, to get her to put some of that rage and pain on him, to let him help her carry it. Attempts at talking about it having been all but useless, and too, frustrated by her increasing silence and closed face, he tried to instigate her physically, taking her harder and pushing her farther than ever before. She'd responded in kind, pushing back against him with all her strength. His arms ached from trying to hold her down; there were bruises on the backs of his legs where she'd dug her heels into him. He'd dared to hope, as he'd fallen asleep, that the encounter had satiated her enough to turn off whatever was happening in her head and go to sleep, at least for a little while. He doubted, now, that it had worked.

Reaching for his phone, saw that it was still very early. It had been only a few hours before that he'd collapsed into sleep, V. next to him and already feeling far away. Still, he felt restless now, too, needing to make sure she was OK and didn't need him. After stubbing out his cigarette in the overflowing ashtray, he got up and pulled on his jeans and boots.

Jax shivered slightly against the morning chill as he approached the boxing ring behind the garage. As he'd expected, V. was next to the ring, landing kick after kick on the bag. In the morning mist, she seemed almost ethereal. As he got closer, Jax noticed her bloody knuckles. Clearly she'd been hitting the bag with unwrapped hands. She took no notice of his approach, continuing beating the bag with no change in her rhythm. The blank expression she'd lately taken to wearing was gone, replaced by what could only be described as a mask of anger.

After waiting a few minutes for her to acknowledge him, Jax stepped finally between V. and the bag. She stopped mid-kick, the expression on her face reverting almost instantly from rage to a benign half-smile. "Morning."

He lifted her hand, running his thumb over her open knuckles. "Been out here a while, huh?"

She glanced down at her fist. "Yeah. Guess so. I didn't notice." She turned slightly, dismissively, expecting him to move and let her resume. He didn't, moving instead closer to her, lifting her other hand to his lips.

"You're hurting yourself." His voice was gravelly.

She pulled her hands from his. "No big deal," she said. "I'm fine." She lowered her eyes to the ground.

"No." He reached now for her face, lifting her chin so her eyes were forced to meet his. "Babe," his eyes searched hers. "This has to stop." She didn't move away, but said nothing. There were deep circles under her eyes, and her cheekbones were sharp against her skin. She looked, he thought, much like she had when she'd first hit town, thin and bruised and exhausted. He felt guilty, like he wasn't taking care of her the way he should be, and angry, too, because she wasn't taking care of herself.

"What's goin' on with you, darlin'?" Jax furrowed his brow as he looked into her dark-rimmed eyes. "You're not sleeping, you're not eating, and you're…" he trailed off. _Not here_, he thought.

V. sighed. She knew she wasn't making good on her promise to try to let Jax love her. It was all she could do not to scream when he touched her so softly, to curse at him for worrying about her. His gentleness hurt more than anything else.

"I want to help you," Jax said, his voice remaining soft. "But I don't know what to do. You gotta talk to me." He moved his hand from her chin, smoothing her hair. Leaning forward, he kissed her forehead.

V pulled away. More of that same gentleness, and it was more than she could take. She'd slept, briefly, after the work over Jax had given her last night, and come out here only after being awoken by a new nightmare, in which it was Devin's throat, rather than King Leo's, under her knife. She'd been thankful for his seeming understanding in not insisting on talking, for his willingness to push her until she hurt. That she could take. It even helped, at least for a while. But this made her skin crawl.

"I'm sorry Jax," she said, backing away from him and reaching for her flannel shirt. "I guess I just need to be alone." She didn't wait for him to answer before turning and walking back towards the clubhouse.

Frustrated, Jax swung half-heartedly at the bag. He was trying to be patient with V., knowing all she'd been through, but he was at the end of his rope. Nothing he was doing seemed to help and he'd started to wonder if V. wanted him around at all. He couldn't help but remember Tara, the way she'd distanced herself from him before leaving town (both times). Was this distance from V. pre-ordaining her taking off? She didn't need the Club for protection anymore, and he was less and less sure that she'd stay around for him.

V. spent the remainder of the morning avoiding Jax. Once she was showered and dressed, she checked to see that Jax's bike was not in the lot. He'd gone home to see Abel, she guessed. She sequestered herself in the office, hoping to be left alone. When he pulled back in a couple of hours later, he didn't come in, but went directly to the garage. From the window, she watched. She wished she could go to him, wished there were some way to make him understand that it wasn't him, it was all her.

Tired of V.'s monosyllabic responses to her questions, it took Gemma only until the early afternoon to release her from the office with orders not to come back until she'd slept and wasn't in such a bitchy mood. Rather than argue with her, V. returned to the clubhouse, thinking maybe she'd make an attempt at a nap. She knew, though, that the moment she closed her eyes she'd be assaulted by the images of the night she'd seen Devin, the night she'd killed Leo.

Bobby sat at the bar, drinking a beer and flipping through a Harley magazine. He smiled when he saw V., then patted the stool next to him. "Hey there, sweetheart," he said. "Gemma cut you loose?"

V. nodded, taking the seat.

"You look tired," Bobby observed. "You still not sleepin'?"

A look of irritation glanced over V.'s features. Jax was apparently sharing her sleeping issues with the Club. Bobby smiled, knowing what she was thinking. "He's worried about you."

"I'm fine." V.'s tone was terse.

"No, you're not." Bobby's tone was matter-of-fact. "You found out you got sold out by blood. That's gonna fuck you up. And that's without the rest of it."

V. met Bobby's eyes. "So what if I am?" she asked. "Life fucks us up. We get over it." She shrugged.

Deciding another tactic might be better, Bobby pulled a joint from his shirt pocket. "You need a nap," he said. "This'll help."

"That it might," V. said, smiling with actual appreciation. Bobby lit the joint, then passed it to her. She pulled deeply on it before passing it back. They sat in silence for a few minutes, passing it back and forth. V. was thankful for the quiet, for his not asking her any more questions about how she was feeling.

When Jax came into the clubhouse two hours later, he found V. asleep on the couch, curled up on her side, a tattered Army blanket pulled over her. His mouth turned up at the corners. Even asleep she looked tired. He was tempted to pick her up and take her to her bedroom, knowing that in an hour or so the room would be full of Sons. _She'd just wake up, _he thought. He sat down on the chair across from her, his eyes trained on her face. It was nice just to be able to watch her sleep.

The peace didn't last too long. As Jax had expected, within the hour the Club members were trickling in, with the requisite loud voices and clinking bottles. V. sat up, seeming startled to have been asleep. She looked at Jax, whose eyes were still on her. "How long was I out?"

"Couple of hours I think." He smiled. "You're cute when you're asleep."

"I'm always cute." Feeling marginally better than she had in days, V. wanted to do her best to make up for that morning's conversation. She rose from the couch, sitting on the arm of his chair. Leaning towards him, she whispered in his ear. "I'm sorry about this morning."

He nodded, and pulled her into his lap. "I know shit is hard on you right now," he said. "We'll get through it."

Handing bottles of beer to both Jax and V. before he sat down, Half-Sack settled on the couch. "You been workin' the bag," he said to V. "You want to spar?" He glanced nervously at the approaching Chibs, who clearly put him up to asking. Half-Sack hadn't forgotten the last time he was in the ring with V., and how he'd expected it to end with Jax killing him.

"Fuck yeah," V said. "I'd love that." She felt Jax's body tense and turned slightly towards him. "You gonna be mad if I hurt your prospect?"

Jax still didn't like the idea of V. fighting. It went against everything he'd ever been taught about women to let anybody hit his old lady. He knew V. well enough now, though, to know that letting his displeasure at the idea be known would only earn him a place at the top of her shit list. "He gets in the ring with you, I guess it's on him." He lifted V's hand to his lips, noticing again her raw knuckles. After brushing his lips against them, he motioned towards Chibs and Half-Sack on the couch, keeping her hand in his. "Wrap your fucking hands, though," he said.


	2. Chapter 2

As it turned out, V. and Half-Sack didn't have the chance to get in the ring that evening. Clay came in with a job for the prospect, so the fight was a rain check. V remained in the chair with Jax, trying her best to relax and enjoy the cold beer running down her throat and his warm arms around her waist. Across from them, Chibs sat on the couch. As she had for the past several weeks, V. avoided meeting Chibs' gaze.

Watching Jax with V., Chibs was conflicted. He knew Jax was having a hard time watching V. deal with everything that had happened. Jax had grown up in a world where women were protected. Even his mother, tough as she was, was ultimately taken care of, first by John Teller, then by Clay. Chibs, though, had come across women like V. before—women who had simply seen and done too much for tender words and caresses to take away their pain. In particular, he thought of Fiona, who had reacted to each new death with a more brutal temper and colder demeanor. Fi could never handle coddling, and he expected it wasn't doing much for V., either. In those days, the only way to help Fi was to exhaust her, to let her fight you.

These thoughts brought him naturally to thoughts of the night he'd spent with V. _Don't go down that road, boy. _He tried to keep the memory from his mind, but it was impossible not to replay it. He couldn't help but wonder, though he hated himself for the thought, if she was craving it again, the same way he was. Truth was, he couldn't be in the same room with her without flashing back on being inside her, on the pressure of her lips and the pounding of her heart. Watching her kill Leo, unflinchingly pulling her blade across his throat, had only made his attraction to her stronger. Women who could handle themselves had always turned him on.

Tonight, though, Jax and V. seemed to be doing OK. She looked more relaxed than she had in weeks, and wasn't scanning the room for a reason to get up, or making an excuse to leave. She wasn't looking at him at all, Chibs noticed, but that was understandable. They'd agreed, Chibs reminded himself, that the night he couldn't stop thinking about had never happened.

When Bobby approached Jax and V., Chibs was glad for the interruption. While chatting with Jax, he had been studiously trying not to see his friend's hand creeping up the back of V.'s shirt. He hated that he was jealous, hated that he knew, rather than just imagining, what her skin felt like.

"You get some sleep?" Bobby asked V.

"Yeah, I did. Thank you. Whatever you laced that shit with, it did the trick." V. smiled up at Bobby.

"Anytime darlin'." He turned his interest to Chibs. "What's goin' on with you?" he asked. "You sulkin' about something?"

Chibs stuttered, startled, not having realized he was so easy to read. "No brother, I'm good," he said, forcing his face into a smile. Briefly, he felt V.'s eyes on him. He remembered her words, "You didn't do anything wrong. But this didn't happen, OK?" He knew he was letting her down, not doing a good job pretending it had never happened. Quickly, he got up off the couch, heading towards a small cluster of Crow Eaters. Better to take his mind off her completely.

Jax pulled V.'s ear closer to his lips. "I want to take you back to your room and fuck you," he said, "but I have to go home for the little man."

V. nodded. "That's OK."

"Come with me?"

Jax knew V. was avoiding his house, avoiding Abel. He hadn't pressured her to see the baby, either. Whenever he thought of her holding his son, he saw her face, covered in blood, after she'd slit Leo's throat. He knew it was hypocritical, that V. had only done what had to be done, but in truth, he was having a hard time reconciling the gentle way she'd always been with the baby with the brutality of which he knew she was capable.

"I don't think so, Jax," V. said quietly. "I think I'll just stay here."

Jax nodded. He wanted her to come with him, wanted to feel her on the back of his bike and hold her until she fell asleep. But he knew there was little use in trying to convince her to do something she didn't want to do, and he wasn't even sure what he wanted from her these days. So he stood and kissed her, said goodbye to the other Sons, and left.

Chibs watched Jax leave, wondering why V. didn't go with him. The nights she stayed alone at the clubhouse made him nervous, remembering waking to the sound of her nightmare screaming. He knew, too, that she wasn't sleeping, and didn't like the idea of her spending her nights alone. _Don't even go down that road,_ he chided himself.

Chibs was still watching as V. crossed the room and sat down at the bar. She knocked back three shots in quick succession, barely breathing in between. This was another new characteristic that hadn't escaped any of the Sons' notice—V. was drinking, a lot. She'd always drunk more than was typical for a woman, but her drinking seemed to increase every day. She was never really intoxicated, or at least not noticeably so, but she started drinking early, and kept on later and later.

Gemma, too, was watching V. as she took her rapid shots. After the third one, she removed the bottle from in front of V., saying nothing, but giving the other woman an unmistakably disapproving look. V. rolled her eyes, but didn't argue. Instead, she left the bar and crossed the room to the pool table, perching on a stool to watch the ongoing game.

A bit later, when V. had plopped back down on the couch, ever-present beer in hand, and after Clay and Gemma took off, Chibs approached her. He knew it wasn't a good idea, knew he'd be better off to take the young, new hang around who had been circling him all night back to his room and be done with it, but seeing her there, alone, looking so blank, he couldn't help himself. He grabbed a half full whiskey bottle from the bar and sat down next to her.

"Here," he handed V. the bottle. "Gemma's gone. Nobody else gonna get on you."

V. took the bottle, drinking directly from it. Chibs tried to focus on anything but her lips around the glass mouth, the motion of her swallowing throat. "Thanks." She still didn't look Chibs in the eye.

"Gemma thinks you drink too much." To keep himself talking, and not focusing on her, Chibs stated the obvious.

V. nodded. Suddenly, she looked up from the bottle, surprising Chibs with her clear eyes. "What do you think?" she asked.

Startled by the seeming challenge, Chibs answered without considering his words. "I think that whatever gets you through the night is OK by me."

A slow smile spread across V.'s face, and as Chibs watched it, what he's said began to sink in. "Whatever that gets me through the night, huh?" she asked. "Anything?" The challenge Chibs thought he saw in V.'s eyes before was clear now. There was something else there, too, something lusty and dangerous.

Looking around quickly to make sure none of the Sons still left in the room were paying attention, Chibs reached over and grabbed V.'s wrist, pulling her towards him and staring into her face. "You playin'? Because if you're not, you better be real fucking careful what you say."

V. looked shocked, but didn't pull away. Chibs continued. "Listen to me very close, because I am only gonna say this once. You want to hurt yourself. I get that. You start thinkin' you can use me to do it, I'm not gonna be able to stop you. Don't count on me to do the right thing. I won't."

V. kept her eyes on Chibs', but didn't say anything. He lowered his voice even further, so that she could barely hear him. "You think I can give you what you need, you're probably right. But you come to me for it, you'd better be sure, because I'm not going to be able to turn you away."

They were both silent for a moment, considering what Chibs was saying. Knowing he couldn't turn back now, and wanting to make sure he was clear, Chibs finally went on. "You know I want you. I can't stop wanting you." He swallowed, trying to rest his eyes on anything but her. "And it might get me killed, but if you give me the chance, I'll be inside you before you can change your mind." He felt V.'s heart pounding, knew his words were having an effect.

"Why," V. asked slowly, her voice just as low as Chibs' had been, "do you think you have what I need? How the fuck would you even know what I need?"

Chibs laughed briefly. "I've known women like you. All you can feel is pain. You were brutal before, but now…" he trailed off, focusing again on her face. "You want somebody to hurt you."

"And you think you're the man for the job?" V. smirked. She knew that what she was doing was cruel. And yet she couldn't convince herself to stop.

Chibs' grip tightened on her wrist. "You trying to get me to prove it? You want me to drag you to my room and fuck you into the floor? You want me to hit you? You want to bleed? You know I will." He let go of her wrist. "And you know Jackie won't."

V. trembled. Chibs felt her fear, her arousal. He tried with all he was to stand up. Now that he'd told her how things were for him, he should, he knew, walk away. But he couldn't. Her eyes were locked in his, and he couldn't do anything but stare back at her.

For the first time since the night she killed Leo, V.'s mind felt calm. She felt in control. She could, she knew, take Chibs up on this odd offer. She could invite him into her room and see where it took her. She wanted to. She wanted to feel the pain he could cause, and she wanted to fall into the wrongness of the situation. She wanted to hurt herself, to hurt him, to hurt Jax. She could feel herself doing it.

Chibs watched her face. He could see her struggling, and it broke him out of the haze he'd found himself in since sitting down next to her. "Go to bed, V.," he said. He leaned forward and kissed her quickly on the forehead. "And lock your door."

V. stood, her eyes still on Chibs. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice nearly cracking. Then she turned on her heel and headed towards her room.


	3. Chapter 3

Over the next few days, the news of V.'s agreement to spar with Half-Sack spread through SAMCRO. By the time both Half-Sack and V. had time free to do it, it was Friday night, and they found themselves gearing up to be the central entertainment of the Sons' post-Church party. As the group began to congregate around the ring, Jax pulled the prospect aside.

Half-Sack looked nervous, remembering Jax's reaction the last time he and V. started to spar. "You know I don't like this," Jax began. "But V.'s gonna do whatever V. wants to do. I got no control over her. I do, however," he tightened his grip on Half-Sack's shoulder, "have some control over you."

"Uh, yeah." The prospect hoped that if he remained quiet and agreeable, he wouldn't piss Jax off.

"So you know that if you hurt her, in any way, you'll answer to me for it?" Jax looked down, unsmiling, at the much smaller man.

Half-Sack nodded, then hesitated. "She'll know, man," he said. "If I try to throw it, she'll know. And she'll be pissed."

Jax smiled then, letting go of Half-Sack's shoulder. "Guess you'd better not let her know, then." He turned, then, in time to see V. coming around the corner.

Everyone, it seemed, stopped to take notice of her. V. had changed out of her jeans and tank top for the fight, and was now wearing cut offs, with her hair pulled up. The shorts were hanging on her hipbones, but that wasn't what had caught the club members' attention. She'd replaced her tank top with a black sports bra. Not only was she showing more skin than she had since she'd dressed up as talent to go to Cara Cara, but her scar was completely visible. As she grew near, Jax could make out clearly the red, raised line, starting just below where the sports bra stopped and disappearing under the her waistband.

"Holy shit," Jax heard Tig say. Chibs blanched, unconsciously running his finger over his own scarred face. As V. approached him, she smiled at Jax and kissed him briefly on the lips, as if nothing was any different than ever.

"You have any tape?" she asked Half-Sack. "Jax is gonna be mad if I don't wrap my hands." She grinned.

"Uh, yeah." Half-Sack stared openly at V. for a moment, then stumbled away to go get the tape.

"You sure you want to do this?" Jax asked, pulling her towards him.

V. nodded, still smiling. "There's nothing to worry about," she said. "It's just a spar."

Jax didn't return her smile. "Do you have any idea how much I hate this?" he grumbled.

"Get over it," V. said, shortly. "I'm always gonna like to fight." Her eyes sparkled, Jax noticed. She looked happier than she had in weeks. Unwillingly, he smiled back at her.

"OK. But be careful, alright? Don't hurt the Prospect too much. He has a real fight next week, and the Club could use the cash."

V. raised an eyebrow. "Does that mean if I beat him up, I get to fight instead?" she asked, her voice light. Jax stared at her. She was surely joking, but he couldn't quite tell.

After V. and Half-Sack had their hands taped, they entered the ring. "Same rules as before?" she asked. "No kicking?"

Half-Sack nodded. "I don't know that kung-fu shit you do. I fight white."

V. rolled her eyes. "It's kickboxing," she said. "But fine, fists only."

Half-Sack felt more uncomfortable than he'd expected he would. Even before being spoken to by Jax, he'd had no intention of attempting to hurt V. Facing her now, though, he wasn't so sure. Her body was leaner and harder than he'd thought, with clear ropes of muscles in the arms. Her face showed no fear or trepidation, but there was something there that looked like excitement, and something else that looked, troublingly, like malice. The scar was the worst of it. Half-Sack couldn't stop looking at it, and rather than feeling sorry for the woman who wore it, it made him feel scared of her.

For the first few minutes, the fight was pretty tame. V. and Half-Sack circled each other and blocked each other's attempts. Neither of them looked to be trying particularly hard. The assembled Sons hooted and hollered, mostly at Half-Sack. Finally, V. very deliberately dropped her left hand, leaving her face open. And waited. Half-Sack hesitated, then attempted to hit her at the right, allowing her to block easily.

"Goddammit!" V. exploded. She dropped both hands and backed up slightly. "You're not fucking trying!" She looked livid and continued to yell. "Listen to me, junior. I don't need your protection. I was beating people up for money when you were still shitting in your pants. You're a tiny little boy who beat up some other tiny little boys so you think you're hot shit. You're not." She lowered her voice, still clearly angry. "This is your one and only chance. This is a real fight now. You will hit me back, and you will hit me hard. If you don't, I will hurt you."

Jax stepped forward, as if to intervene, but Happy caught his arm. "Brother, the girl needs her fight," he said. Jax paused, still watching the ring.

Half-Sack straightened up. It was clear, to him as to the rest of the crowd, that V. meant what she said. Chibs saw the same look in her eyes he'd noticed a few nights before, lusty and dangerous, careening as fast as she could, less concerned with what she'd crash into and more concerned with how hard she could land. He almost felt sorry for the prospect for being the direction in which she was aimed. Then his pity was replaced with jealousy.

V. lifted her fists again, backing up to re-start the fight. Nodding slowly, Half-Sack, too, resumed his fighting stance. This round began much more quickly, with both fighters playing as much offense as defense. They each landed a couple of punches, but neither seemed particularly perturbed. Then, though nobody knew if it was by skill or if he did it on purpose, V. caught Half-Sack outside his blocking hands with a right hook. Her fist smashed directly into his nose, which immediately spurted blood and made a crunching sound.

Half-Sack reacted just as he would have in any other fight. He pulled his guard hand closer and swung back. V., too, continued to swing, connecting again, this time with his jaw. Half-Sack stumbled backwards against the side of the ring. She followed, continuing to punch, her face wild. He righted himself quickly, all thoughts of going easy on her now clearly gone. His next punch landed on the right side of V.'s mouth, splitting her lip. She smiled, then retaliated.

The onlookers quieted, unsure how to react to what they were seeing. None of them had really expected this type of fight. Jax stood as if made of stone, his stomach clenched. His impulse to protect V. was strong, but she didn't seem to need his help. She was getting hit, but she was tearing the Prospect apart.

Finally, Chibs jumped up into the ring, maneuvering his body in between V. and Half-Sack. "Go," he said to Half-Sack. "You're done." The young man's face was a mess, his nose clearly broken. He didn't argue, just turned and left the ring.

Chibs faced V., grasping her wrist. "Are you satisfied?" he hissed, his voice low enough that only she could hear it. V.'s lip was bleeding and a bruise was forming on her cheek. Her hair had fallen down and stuck haphazardly to her face. She was flushed, breathing hard. "Was that enough?" He shook his head and dropped her hand.

Before V. could answer, Jax too entered the ring, standing at her other side. "C'mon, babe," he said. "You won." He didn't sound happy, or proud. He reached for her shoulder, and V. spun around, her eyes still blazing.

"You told him to go easy." It wasn't a question.

"Well, I wouldn't worry about. He didn't. Didn't need to."

V. glared at Jax. "All this, and you still don't get it?" Her hands were in fists, and it looked like she was going to begin swinging at Jax. She raised her hand, in fact, but he closed his over it.

"You really want to do this here?" he asked, motioning to Chibs, then to Bobby, Tig, Opie, Clay, Juice, and Happy, who still stood surrounding the ring. "You want an audience?"

V. stared at him for a moment, then turned and stomped out of the ring, towards the clubhouse.

Chibs stepped forward. He wanted nothing less than to get involved in what was going on between Jax and V., given the situation, but he saw his friend's confusion, and had to try to help. He put his hand on Jax's shoulder. "She's lookin' for pain," he said, simply.

Jax looked at Chibs, his face confused and troubled, but angry, too. "I know," he said. "And she's gonna get it, one way or another." He sighed, then turned his attention back to Chibs. "Check on the prospect, OK?"

"Sure, brother. Don't worry about him, though. He's been beat worse. Probably good for him." He laughed. "Deflate his swelled head."

As Chibs went to find the Prospect, Jax went after V. The other Sons stood around a bit longer, unsure what to make of what they'd seen. "What the fuck was that?" Juice finally asked.

"That was Half-Sack getting gettin' his ass kicked by a girl," Tig said.

"No," Opie shook his head. "That was Half-Sack getting his ass kicked by a boxer."

The other men began to nod. Opie continued. "She's been tryin' to tell us for weeks that she's not like the girls we know. She's right. She can ride, she can run guns, she can fight…" He trailed off.

"And she can draw blood," Clay finished. They were all remembering V. with her blade at Leo's throat. None of the men knew exactly what to do with this information, having no real idea how to handle a woman capable of the things V. was.

"Could be good for the Club," Bobby finally said. "Having a friend of a woman who can do the things she can do. Especially now."

Clay nodded. "That it could."

"What about Jax, though?" Happy asked. "He ain't gonna like her getting any more involved in Club business."

"I got a feeling she'll take care of that," Clay said. Then he turned and walked back towards the clubhouse.

Chibs found Half-Sack in the clubhouse's main bathroom, cleaning up his face. "You OK, kid?"

"Yeah." Half-Sack winced as he dabbed at his nose. "Nose is broken."

Chibs nodded. "Take you to the doc," he offered.

"Nah, it's straight, it'll be OK." Half-Sack shook his head. "I had no fucking idea, man. Never seen anything like that from a girl."

"Me neither," Chibs admitted. "I've known some hard fuckin' women, but I never seen one in the ring like that."

"I could have hit her harder, at the beginning," Half-Sack said. "Thought I should go easy, so Jax wouldn't kill me" he exhaled. "But even if I'd started strong, I dunno if I could have beat her. She…" he seemed to be searching for the words. "It's like she wanted to get hurt."

Chibs nodded. His head ached. "C'mon Prospect," he said. "You need a drink." He threw his arm around the boy's shoulders as they left the bathroom.

Jax didn't knock, just went into V.'s room. She wasn't there, but he heard the shower running in her bathroom. He paused for a moment, unsure of what to do. He knew she was angry with him for telling Half-Sack to go easy on her, just as he knew she would be. What was more complicated, though, was that he was angry with her. Angry at her distance, her unwillingness to open up to him. Angry at her strength. Angry at how more and more, she made him feel inadequate. _She wants anger, she got it,_ he thought, stripping quickly out of his clothes.

Jax pushed the bathroom door open and moved aside the shower curtain quickly. He didn't say a word. From behind, he shoved V. against the wall of the shower, flattening her and pinning her against the wall. He neither kissed her nor whispered to her, but shoved inside her, hard. "Ah, Jax," she started to speak, but he clamped his hand over her mouth.

"Shut up." He thrust into her, harder each time, smashing her breasts and then her forehead against the shower wall. He held himself up with the other hand, leveraging his body to smash full force into hers. Again and again, he pounded into her. His mind was racing. _How was he ever going to love her if all she could feel was pain? Was she really going to hit him out there? Did she want him to hit her? Could he do that even if she did?_ With each new question his furious pace increased.

For her part, V. was not thinking at all. Instead, she was letting the feeling wash over her with the shower spray. Each thrust hurt more than the last. Her split lip throbbed where Jax's hand was clamped over her mouth. Her breasts ached where they were held too tight against the wall. And yet, inside she burned.

Finally, Jax stopped and pulled out of her. Forcefully, he turned her to face him. Still saying nothing, he tangled his hands in her hair and pushed her to her knees on the floor of the shower. He saw her shoulders relax as she took him in her mouth, a gesture of what seemed to be resignation. "You're not done," he said, tightening his grip on her hair and forcing himself farther into her mouth. "All the way."

V. did her best to oblige, swallowing as much as she could when Jax pushed himself past her split lip. She looked up, meeting Jax's eyes, and saw that he was looking down at her in a way that was both angry and sad. Her eyes blazed, angry and clearly turned on. He pushed himself farther into her throat.

It took only a few more thrusts before Jax came, and he didn't let go of V.'s hair until she had swallowed completely. Then he stepped back, without meeting her eyes, and got out of the shower. She followed him out, remaining quiet. While she watched, he toweled himself off quickly and put his clothes back on. He looked at her, but said nothing, then turned and left the room.


	4. Chapter 4

Gemma slammed the file drawer closed. "Where the fuck is V?" she muttered. Damn girl had reorganized everything and now she couldn't find what she was looking for. She looked at the clock. It was after eleven. V. should have been in the office hours ago. Lighting a cigarette, Gemma peered out the dusty window. Spotting Jax coming out of the garage, she hurried outside.

"Where's V.?"

Jax looked briefly confused. "She's not in the office?"

"No. Haven't seen her all morning."

Jax's stomach sank. He couldn't help but thank of Tara. Tara had said goodbye. V., though…he could see her just leaving.

"Go find her, please." Gemma's voice was tight, and Jax knew his mother was thinking the same thing he was.

Walking towards the clubhouse, Jax thought about the previous night. He'd walked out of V.'s room and continued out of the clubhouse. He had no idea what had happened after that. Nobody had mentioned seeing her. By the time he reached V.'s door, Jax had convinced himself she wouldn't be behind it.

The door was unlocked, and Jax didn't knock, but pushed it open. He was momentarily shocked when he saw V. spread out on the bed. She was lying on her side, her dark hair was fanned out over the pillow, her naked body partially covered by her sheet. She was fast asleep.

Jax chuckled softly at his own paranoia. After the previous night, he wasn't sure how he felt about V. right now, but seeing her asleep, finally, it was difficulty to be angry. She looked younger, smaller, softer, when she was asleep. He sat down on the edge of the bed. Surprised she didn't wake up, he gently brushed her hair from her face. The lip was still swollen, and the cheek very bruised. She actually looked worse than she had last night. Having seen Half-Sack earlier in the day, though, he knew she'd gotten the best of it. He leaned down and kissed her forehead gently. "Babe? Wake up."

V. stirred, blinking a few times before fully opening her heavy eyes. "Jax?" She looked confused. He watched her face as she moved to full consciousness and remembered the night before. "I fell asleep…"

"That's good," he said. "You needed it. You sleep all night?"

She nodded. Her tongue darted out over her lips, then she furrowed her brow. She reached up gingerly and ran her finger across her lips, then up over her cheek. "Is it bad?"

He shook his head.

"And Half-Sack?" He couldn't read her expression. Guilt, maybe? Sadness?

"Nose is broken."

"Shit." She sat up, pulling the sheet up around her. "He pissed?"

"Embarrassed, I think."

She nodded. Jax reached out again, running a gentle finger down her temple. He wasn't surprised when she backed away from his hand. Every tender gesture he made towards her provoked that response lately. She would only let him touch her if he did it hard. He didn't reach for her again. Instead, he lit a cigarette, handing it to her. She propped herself against the wall and took it gratefully. Exhaling, she looked at him. "What about you? You pissed?"

Jax returned her stare, but didn't answer. He wasn't sure what to say. "No," he finally said. "Sack knows what he's doing when he gets in the ring. He can take it." Jax knew that didn't really answer the question she'd asked, but he wasn't sure what else to tell her.

They were both quiet for a moment, V. pulling on her cigarette, Jax watching her. "You shouldn't sleep naked with your door unlocked," he finally said, nodding towards the sheet slipping down below her breast. "You forget where you are?"

V. smiled. "Just forgot to lock it," she said. "Tired." She knew when she heard the words leave her mouth she was lying. The truth was that she hadn't locked her door since Chibs' warning. Uncomfortable with the realization, she suddenly moved forward, onto her knees, letting the sheet drop from her body. She climbed onto Jax's lap. He smiled, wrapping his arms loosely around her waist.

Briefly, he buried his head in her chest, inhaling her citrus scent. Then he looked up. "Much as I like where this is headed, darlin', Ma's about to have a shit fit you aren't at work yet."

V. looked startled. "Shit, what time is it?"

Jax smiled. "Almost eleven-thirty."

V. jumped off Jax's lap. "Fuck! Jax! Why didn't you tell me that to begin with?"

"S'okay. She'll be glad you were asleep." Jax rose, grabbing V.'s elbow and pulling her back against him. He was tempted to tell her that he'd feared she'd be gone, but decided against it. Instead, he ran his hands over her body.

She smiled, but backed away. "Work," she said, lightly. When she turned to rummage for clothing, he noticed a large, dark bruise over her right hip. He reached out and stroked it.

"Guess Half-Sack got one in I didn't see," he said.

She laughed. "Sorry baby," she said. "That one's all you."

For the rest of the day, Jax couldn't get that bruise out of his mind. It wasn't a big deal to her, he knew, but it made him feel a bit sick. He knew he hadn't been in control of himself when he'd pounded V. against the wall hard enough to give her that bruise. He knew, also, that was exactly what she wanted. But if he couldn't keep himself in check, and she didn't even try to, how far would it go?

After the garage closed for the day, the SAMCRO members congregated in the clubhouse. For once, they let the banged-up Half-Sack sit down and got their own beers. There was tape across the Prospect's nose, and a dark bruise under each eye from the impact of the break.

When V. came into the room, she went directly to Half-Sack. With a gentle hand, she lifted his face so she could see. Then she shook her head. "I'm sorry," she said. "We still friends?"

Half-Sack shrugged. "You fight fair," he said. "We're cool."

V. smiled, then leaned down and kissed his cheek. "Thank you," she whispered. Half-Sack blushed.

From behind the bar, Juice grinned widely at V. "You want a beer, badass?"

"Please." V. took her beer bottle and sat down on a barstool.

"So, V.," Clay said from across the room, walking towards her, his voice commanding the attention of the rest of the guys. "You beat up our Prospect last night."

V. nodded, cautious, not sure where this was going. "Seems you weren't fucking around about being a boxer," Clay continued.

"Like I told you before, I fought some," she replied.

"You up to fight again?" Clay fixed her with his hard stare.

"You mean fight for real?" V. looked intrigued.

Clay glanced sidelong at Jax, waiting for his stepson to intervene. So far, he was quiet. Didn't look happy, but he was quiet. He nodded, then turned to Half-Sack. "Outfit where you fight, they fight girls?"

"Yeah. At least once per show."

"Not a lot of ringside action on the girl fights, man." Tig said. "Nobody bets on bitches."

"That's a'ight. Gives V. a place to start. If she's a good as she thinks she is, she'll bring the action," Clay responded.

V. looked squarely at Clay. It felt like a set-up, a trap, but she couldn't figure out how. "I haven't been in a real ring in years," she said. "I can't guarantee I could win."

Tig laughed. "You beat Half-Sack. He's been winnin'."

V. shook her head. "Not the same." She turned to Sack. "You went easy on me to begin. Gave me a head start."

Half-Sack started to protest, but V. cut him off. "S'okay. I know you did. Plus, that fight didn't last long."

Juice looked confused. "You worried about endurance? You punch the fucking bag for hours a day." He reached over the bar and squeezed V.'s upper arm. "You're rock solid."

"Yeah," V. lit a cigarette. "That's not all it's about, though." She looked back at Clay. "Look, Club has some interest in me fighting, I'll fight. But don't expect fuckin' Rocky. I smoke two packs a day. I'm 30 years old. I haven't had a real fight in a long time. And I have no core strength."

Chibs, who'd been watching the discussion silently, approached now. "You're worried about this?" he asked, motioning to her belly.

V. nodded. Chibs regarded the other men. "Real boxing, not just street fighting," he said, "isn't just about throwing punches. Needs lots of strength here," he motioned to his gut. "Otherwise, you can't stay up long enough to go many rounds."

"So do some fuckin' crunches," Tig said.

V. rolled her eyes. "Remember that whole knife to the gut thing? Not sure I can build muscle there at all now. That's my fuckin' point."

Tig looked slightly abashed. "Oh. Right."

"I hear ya," Half-Sack piped up. "But I don't think it's gonna matter. I haven't seen any chicks fight there who would last three rounds with you."

"You're quiet," Clay said, turning towards Jax. "What's your thoughts?"

Jax shook his head. He could see what Clay was trying to do, giving V. an outlet for whatever was going on inside her. He wasn't sure it was the right way to do it, but didn't have any other ideas. "Up to V.," he said, shortly.

The men all turned back towards V. She tilted her head. It would be good to fight. It would so good to fight. "Think you can get me a fight?" she finally asked Half-Sack.

"Hell yeah."

"They fight dogs at this place?"

The whole group looked surprised. Dogs? "Uh, no, I don't think so," Half-Sack responded.

"Good. They fight dogs there, I'm out. Only going if I can make everybody bloody."

Tig smiled. "Didn't figure you for an animal lover."

V. looked at him coolly. "Figured wrong. Like most dogs a hell of a lot better than most people."

"Well they don't fight dogs," Clay said, growing exasperated.

She nodded. "Alright. I'll do it."

Clay turned towards Chibs. "Looks like you just got yourself another fighter to train."

Chibs just nodded, hoping his face didn't belie what was going on inside. It was, he knew, a terrible idea. He'd been avoiding getting anywhere near V., nearly flinching every time she turned her wild eyes on him. Could he help her train, he wondered, while keeping a minimum five-foot distance from her?

V. looked at Chibs, smiling slightly. "That OK with you?" she asked. He heard that same challenge in her voice she'd had the night on the couch. She knew this was going to be hard on him. She was going to make it harder.

"Aye, princess." He forced a grin. "So long as you think you can hack it. I'm tough." He raised an eyebrow.

V. kept her eyes locked on him for a long moment, drawing deeply on her beer bottle. As she swallowed, she smiled. "Lookin' forward to it," she said.


	5. Chapter 5

Over the course of the next week, Jax begrudgingly admitted to himself that Clay's plan may have been a good one. V. remained reserved, but seemed calmer, and several mornings in a row found her still in bed when he awoke. She still shrugged off his gentler attempts at affection, but he was getting used to that. In bed, she was insatiable—frenetic and relentless, pushing him harder every night. He woke up sore and tired, but was satiated in a way he didn't know was possible. He only hoped it was working so well for her.

The Russian threat having been eliminated, the Club was back to business as usual. Things were remarkably calm. Which, while it put everyone on edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop, was also a welcome change. As he walked out of the garage into the sunny afternoon, Jax was almost contented. Tonight, he felt sure, he would be able to convince V. to come home with him and see Abel. It had been a long time since she'd seen him, and it felt like it was time.

Jax found V., Half-Sack, and Chibs in the boxing ring. Having just come from of the office, V. was sitting to the side, her boots wound through the side rope on which she was perched. Chibs was in the ring, was explaining something to a sweaty Prospect, who was nodding.

"You the kinda fighter who just watches?" Jax said teasingly, coming up behind V. and grabbing her by the waist.

"Nah," she replied, "Chibs is just giving Sack some pointers. We're gonna go here in a minute." She looked down at him. Her split lip was completely healed, the bruise on her cheek faded to yellow and easily covered by her makeup. She was looking less tired and worn all the time, and was pretty in the afternoon sun. Jax stood on tiptoe and pulled her down to kiss her.

Looking over the Prospect's head, Chibs tried not to watch V. and Jax. So far, he'd managed to keep Half-Sack between himself and V. most of the time when they trained, avoiding touching her or even looking at her if he could help it. She was still pushing, though, in small, subtle ways. Mostly, it was just the looks she gave him that got to him. He saw those expressions behind his eyes in bed at night. Occasionally, he would feel her body against his, if only for a moment when they were working in the ring. It was impossible to give her tips on her form, or really on anything, without being aware of her body in a way it would be better if he weren't.

Watching her lean down to Jax's embrace, Chibs wondered, not for the first time, if the hurt and testing and desire he felt coming from V. was all in his head. Other than the subtle signs that plagued his thoughts when he was trying to sleep, she seemed to be re-normalizing. She and Jax seemed to be on stronger footing every day, and Jax, Chibs new, was worrying a bit less. He should be OK with that, should even be happy about it. But he wasn't. He hated himself for it, but he wasn't.

V. hopped down from the ropes and approached Chibs and Half-Sack. Jax backed up and perched on the picnic table, clearly intending to watch. _Damn,_ thought Chibs. _That ought to make this just that fucking much harder. _He was thankful for his sunglasses, at least, so she couldn't meet his eyes. _Just stay as far away from her as you can, _he schooled himself. Yet, even with Jax watching, he felt a pull towards her.

"OK, Princess," Chibs said, nodding towards V. "Not gonna let you unleash on the Prospect today." He grinned. "Wanna keep him in one piece for the real deal this weekend. Gonna have go with the bag."

"Fuck that." V. half-smiled at Chibs. "You good for anything other than giving orders?"

From the picnic table, Jax snorted. "You oughta be careful, darlin'. The Scot there was a badass in his day."

"In my day! You'd better watch your mouth, Jackie-boy. I can still take you."

V. laughed. "But that's not the question," she said. She was fully smiling now, facing Chibs. "The question is," she raised her eyebrow, "can you take me?"

_Jesus._ Chibs felt himself begin to harden. V. moved forward, sidestepping the Prospect, and put her hand lightly against Chibs' chest. He knew she could feel his heart rate increase. "That," she said slowly, her eyes widening, "was a challenge."

Chibs shook his head. "Fuck," he drawled. "Fine. I'll spar you." Grinning, Half-Sack jumped out of the ring and sat down on the table with Jax.

Chibs backed up to one corner of the ring, where he took off his sunglasses, then stripped out of his cut, then his t-shirt. "This is just a spar," he said, meeting V.'s gaze. "Don't break my fuckin' nose."

V. grinned. "Scared?"

He held her gaze, not smiling. _Bitch,_ he thought. _I've been doing this since before you were born._ _If anybody should be scared, it's you._

V. smirked at his non-answer. Her attention was wholly on him now, with Jax and Half-Sack's commentary completely ignored. She kept her eyes on him as she pulled her hair up and secured it. Then she stepped forward. She rolled her head on her neck, stretching out her shoulders, never once taking her eyes off Chibs. Almost lazily, she raised her fists. "Come and get me."

Chibs didn't hesitate, but went at V. immediately, intending to put her on the defensive. She moved easily, ducking his punches. She laughed. "You said spar. This is ballet."

"You know, princess, if you shut up you might learn somethin'," he responded, his voice a low growl. He looked quickly to the right and catching her following his eyes and off-guard on the left, he hit her. The punch was only at about half intensity, but she jumped back a bit, startled to have been caught out.

"Not a lot of power behind that," V. chided, ducking away from another onslaught. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you didn't want me." She smiled, her back turned to the spectators, with an expression that seemed horribly, inappropriately private.

Chibs' expression was menacing as he approached. His voice was a growl. "I think," he said, swinging at her while he backed her towards the ropes, "that you might just be all talk." He increased the speed of his combinations, forcing her to defend her face so he couldn't get to her. As concentrated as he was on making her defend, he left his own face open for just a split-second too long, and was awarded with an uppercut that rattled his teeth.

After she hit him, V. took advantage of Chibs' moment of recovery to slip out from between him and the rope. "That feel like talkin'?" she taunted. "Maybe you should worry so much about my defense, huh? Maybe you oughta concentrate on getting your licks in while you can." She was breathing hard, now, her chest rising and falling visibly under her tank top. Her face was flushed, her eyes sparkling.

Chibs' earlier thought that her desire was all in his head was long gone. He could feel it coming off her in waves. He'd have worried, if he'd been able to stop to think about it, that Jax could feel it, too. As it was, he was too preoccupied with the spar, with concentrating on blocking and punching, rather with the places his mind was going every time he was close to her. Exhaling, he turned to close in on her again.

V.'s fists were flying, the defensive posture completely gone. Her face was wide open, and he cracked her across the jaw to prove it. She barely reacted, making no move to block another blow, just returning his assault with one of her own. They were in rhythm now, guessing each other's movements before they were made. Neither of them spoke, concentrated entirely on the push and pull of their bodies. There was no sound, the catcalls coming from the picnic bench having faded as if in another dimension. For a long time, they just danced, rocking back and forth losing and regaining ground.

Finally, Chibs maneuvered V. so her back was against the ropes at the back of the ring. She faced Jax and Half-Sack, though she wasn't looking at them. She was landing a few blows against his bare chest, but her strength was faltering. Her eyes were still full of fire, her lips, bleeding slightly, twisted into an expression of both arousal and panic. He didn't know whether she was actually scared, or just wanted to be scared. Her breath was ragged. He didn't hesitate. Pulling back his fist, he drove it hard into her stomach.

V. moaned and dropped her fists. She slid slightly down the rope, reaching out to catch herself before she fell all the way to the ground. Struggling to catch her breath, she looked at Chibs. There was nothing sympathetic in his expression; his face was hard. "I know where you're weak," he said quietly. "And I already warned you. I won't do the right thing."

Chibs turned to face Jax and the Prospect on the picnic table. As his adrenaline subsided, he was afraid of what he might find. He knew how the fight had felt, but how had it appeared? He tried to calm himself, walking towards them. Behind him, he could hear V. pulling herself up on the rope, her breath returning.

"You OK, darlin'?" Jax yelled to V.

"Yeah. I'll be fine." Her voice was softer than usual, breathier.

"Damn man, wasn't nice to hit her in the stomach," Half-Sack said. "That was low."

"No," V.'s voice was slightly stronger now. "It was fair."

"She needs to learn to protect her weak spot," Chibs said. His back was still to V. Returning to the corner of the ring, he pulled his shirt over his head, then slipped back into his cut. Quickly, before meeting anybody's eyes, he donned his sunglasses. Behind them, he closed his eyes for a moment. He was throbbing all over, his body almost vibrating, not so much from the places where she'd hit him, though some of those hurt, but from the intensity of the struggle. The sinking, overwhelming feeling that had shadowed him for weeks—whenever he couldn't keep himself from looking at her, when she spoke to him with that dare her voice, each night when he passed her door and wondered if it was locked—had come to a head now and seemed to be waging its own battle to be released. He needed to get away from her. _Now._

Chibs left the ring quickly, muttering an excuse about something he had to take care of. He felt lucky that he didn't run into any of the other Club members before getting to his room and shutting the door behind him. Only when it was locked did he take off his sunglasses, sliding to the floor with his back against it and holding his head in his hands.

"Fuck!" he swore under his breath. He felt bad enough about spending the night with V. the night before the confrontation with Leo. It was, he knew, a betrayal that would likely not be easily forgiven were Jax ever to find out about it. Still, Jax and V. had not been together then—an excuse, albeit a flimsy one. Now, however, Chibs felt for all the world as if he'd just fucked his friend's woman right in front of him. And the most horrible part was that he knew he'd do it again. He'd fight her and then he'd fuck her. If given the chance, he'd do it again and again, until it got both of them killed.


	6. Chapter 6

It was Saturday night, and the party was hopping. Half-Sack had easily won his fight, making the Club a nice stack of cash. V. had attended, allowing her to check out her own competition for the following week, and she now felt pretty confident that she wasn't going to have any trouble. Chibs' victory in their spar had shaken her up more than she would admit, and until she actually got a feel for the types of fights in which she was going to be involved, she'd been worried she would embarrass herself. Tonight, she was relaxed, sitting on a barstool, chasing shots with beer, watching the scene in the clubhouse with amusement.

"Good fight, Half-Sack," V. said as the clearly already intoxicated Prospect approached her. She raised her beer bottle and tilted it towards him before downing the rest of its contents.

Half-Sack smiled sloppily. "Thanks. Not half as hard as fightin' you." His hand automatically went to his face, checking his still-healing nose.

"No more apologies for that," V. said, laughing. "Does you good to lose one once in a while."

Half-Sack looked unconvinced. "We should go again," he said. "I won't give you an easy start."

V. nodded, smiling. "Sure, kid. Anytime." She'd grown very fond of the Prospect during her time with SAMCRO.

From behind his shades, Chibs watched Half-Sack and V. He'd been sitting across the room, sending a sweetbutt to get his drinks, avoiding V. at the bar. From the safety of his sunglasses, though, he watched her. Since their spar, she'd seemed to be on good behavior. Through gritted teeth, he'd given her training suggestions, which she'd taken. Other than that, he'd avoided her. He'd also thrown himself into drinking hard and fucking a different Crow Eater every night, trying to push her out of his head.

Chibs knew, though, that when he took the redheaded woman currently on his lap to bed tonight, he'd still be seeing V., perched on that stool. She was dressed up, for her, her tall boots pulled over slim-fitting dark jeans, her typical tank or t-shirt replaced with a silvery halter top., her hair pulled up onto her head to expose her elaborately tattooed back. She was knocking back shots and beers pretty quickly, looking more relaxed after each round. And she was smiling.

After Half-Sack wandered away towards a girl he had his eye on, Jax extricated himself from the conversation he was having and went to V. at the bar. He wrapped his arms around her and she lifted her chin to accept his kiss. "Mmmm…" he growled appreciatively, running his hand down her exposed back. "This is hot." He leaned down to where the strap of her top buckled around her neck and nipped at it. "I wanna take it off."

"Hmmm…" V. answered, her voice low. "Right here on the bar?"

"Maybe. Would you like that?" His lips brushed her ear, his fingers slipping around under the front of her shirt. She leaned back against him. He felt good, strong. Maybe it was watching the fights, or maybe it was the beers and shots she'd been downing steadily for quite some time now, but she felt oddly contented tonight. She would have been happy to let him take her to her room, or even back to his place, anytime he wanted.

Just as V. was thinking of making that suggestion, Half-Sack returned to the bar. "Uh, I'm sorry to interrupt," he said.

"So don't." Jax hissed.

"There's a guy outside. He's askin' for Victoria."

V. tensed, and felt Jax do the same behind her. "What guy?"

"Don't know him. I was just uh, outside, with Tessa," he motioned to the blonde girl at his elbow, "and, uh, he drove up. He's a big guy. Talks like a hick."'

_Big guy. Talks like a hick. Jesus. _V. rose from the stool. Jax tightened his grip on her. "You're not goin' out there."

"Yeah," V. sighed. "I am. He's not dangerous." She started for the door. Frowning, Jax followed her, motioning quickly for Chibs and Opie to follow him.

By the time Jax got out to the lot, Chibs and Opie close behind him, V. was already approaching the tall, dark-haired man who was walking towards the clubhouse.

"Victoria!" The man half-ran to cover the remainder of the space between himself and V. When he got to her, he hugged her hard, picking her up off the ground. "God, I missed you, girl."

"Ben." V. didn't sound like herself. Her voice was soft, sounding almost as if she was going to cry.

Chibs glanced sideways at Jax, trying to gauge his reaction at what he was seeing. Before he could even get a good look, though, Jax had stepped forward and put his hand possessively on V.'s shoulder. "This is a private party," he growled.

"Jax," V. said, shrugging out from under his hand. "This is…my friend Ben. From Texas. He helped me out a bit ago, remember?"

Jax nodded jerkily. _Doesn't explain what he's doing here, and what he's doing putting his hands on you,_ he thought.

Ben's eyes barely registered the three bikers, glued as they were to V. "You look good," he said. "Strong." He reached out and touched her bare shoulder. Jax looked pissed and stepped slightly forward, but didn't say anything.

V. nodded. "I am good. But what's going on, Ben. Long drive just to check out my tits."

Ben laughed. "Same Victoria. But I didn't come here for your body, sweetheart. It's business."

V. stiffened. "OK. So what can I help you with, Detective?"

"Seems there was a Russian man put in the hospital here in…Charming. Might have been a…friend of yours? Might have been a witness to a murder. I got myself put on that detail, had to come out here and check it out."

V. nodded slowly. "I'm sorry," she said calmly. "I haven't seen any Russians since I've been in Charming." She turned to Jax. "You know of any Russians around here?"

Jax shook his head, an innocent expression on his face. "Nah, no Russians around here."

"Somehow I expected as much," Ben replied. He looked around the lot slowly, taking notice, finally, of Jax, Chibs, and Opie. "Jesus, Victoria." He sighed. "What are you doing here?"

V. frowned. "I like it here," she said, simply.

He continued. "You arms…," he motioned to V.'s biceps. "You're fighting again?"

V. nodded. "Trying to, anyway. Not as young and tough as I used to be."

Ben looked away, his eyes landing on Jax. He shook his head in what seemed to be disgust, then turned back to V. "You come all this way to fight for bikers? Haven't you seen enough violence? Enough blood?" He reached out again, this time taking her chin in his hand. She didn't pull away. "It doesn't have to be that way," he said.

Now V. did pull away. "Ben," she said, her voice still soft and sad. "I appreciate everything you've done for me. But you don't know anything about how my life has to be."

"I know you have another choice," Ben said. "You always have." He picked up V.'s hand, holding it in both of his. "Leave this behind you, Victoria."

As they heard what was happening, the lot had begun to fill with other SAMCRO members. Clay and Gemma stood to one side of Chibs and Opie. Bobby and Tig had just come out the door, bracing themselves for a fight. Unable to hold himself back any longer, Jax stepped forward, positioning himself between Ben and V. "I think it's time for you to leave," he growled.

Ben ignored Jax, though he was too close. "Is this really what you want?" he asked V. "To spread your legs and swing your fists and let these people turn you into trash?"

As Jax moved to hit Ben, V. grabbed his hand. She shook her head. Scowling, Jax lowered his hand, but didn't move. "You've got it all wrong, Ben," V.'s voice was louder now, so the whole lot could hear her. "These are good people. The best ones I've ever known." She paused. "And I've always been trash."

Ben shook his head, looking more and more disgusted. "No." He smiled a sad smile. "I remember you from before."

V. snorted. "From before what, Ben? Jesus. You think when I fucked you to get myself out of a jail I was some kind of innocent? Get a grip. And let me give you some advice—the next girl who sucks your dick because you've got the key to her cell isn't an innocent either. She doesn't love you. She just wants to get out."

Ben's shoulders slumped. His face was both angry and defeated. "You're a suspect in a murder investigation," he finally said.

"Then come back when you've got a warrant." V.'s voice was hard.

Ben looked as if he was going to say something more, then changed his mind, turned, and returned to his car. V. stood and watched him drive away.

After a few moments, Gemma stepped forward. "Guess that bridge is burned," she said. "Better hope you don't need his help getting out from under this."

V. shook her head tiredly. "If I need him, he'll be there," she said. "Just like he always has been."

"Talk to a man like that, he ain't comin' back," Bobby said from where he was leaning against the doorframe. "Don't matter how good the pussy was."

"It's not about that," V. responded, not turning to look at Bobby, her eyes still on the road where Ben had driven away. "He still thinks he can save me." She looked, finally, at Tig. "No chance on him finding what he came looking for?" she said.

"No."

V. nodded. "Good." She turned, then, to face the rest of the group. "Sorry he interrupted the party," she said. She squared her slumped shoulders. "I'm gonna go back inside."

Jax didn't follow V. immediately, but turned to watch her walk away. Her back was straight, her head high. Gemma spoke to her son in a low voice. "That one is trouble like you've never seen," she said. "I hope you know what you're doin'."

Jax nodded. He hoped he did, too.

As everyone came inside, Jax pulled Clay and Tig into the Chapel, wanting to ask them questions he'd earlier felt no need to about what had happened at Leo's hotel room after he and V. left. He wanted to make sure Tig was positive that there was nothing that could blow back on V., or on the club.

V. returned to her barstool, redoubling her pace and skipping the beer altogether now. Though he knew better, Chibs couldn't resist coming towards her. "You OK?"

V. looked up from her glass, her eyes meeting his. "You see that?" she asked.

Chibs nodded.

"You've been warning me to stay away from you," she said in a low voice. "Now I'm warning you. That's what happens to men who think they have what I need."

Chibs smiled a mean smile, his scars stretching out on his cheeks. "Get over yourself, princess," he said, reaching out and grabbing both her wrists. "That poor bastard is in love with you. That's a mistake I'll never make."

V. leaned forward, her lips much closer to his than they should be. "How is it," she asked, "that you always know just what to say?"

Chibs was sure for a moment that he would kiss her. In this crowded room, he would throw her on the floor and take her. Before he could get any closer to her, though, she was off her stool, walking away. He could do nothing but stand there and watch her as she went out the door.

Chibs was so wrapped up in his own head he didn't even realize Bobby was standing behind him, leaning over the bar, until he spoke. "I don't know what I just saw there," he said. "But I'm sure it wasn't you puttin' your hands Jax's old lady."

Chibs turned to face Bobby and saw his face was deadly serious. "Course not," he muttered.

"Good." Bobby's face remained calm and stony. "Just cuz that girl's got a death wish don't mean she has to bring anybody else down with her." He clapped Chibs' shoulder. "You just saw what she'll do to a man. Be smart, brother."

Chibs nodded, once again fixing his eyes on the door V. had just gone through. He wondered how much longer he could last before he followed her.


	7. Chapter 7

_Feedback please! I'm desperate to know if people are liking this and whether or not I should continue with it!_

Once she was far enough outside Charming that it no longer felt like the walls were closing in, V. stopped the motorcycle, got off, and kicked the kickstand into place. Wearing neither helmet nor gloves, she ran her fingers through her hair and found it, unexpectedly, a mass of tangles. Though she'd been riding for 30 minutes or more, she was still surprised she'd managed to convince Half-Sack to let her take his bike. Her threat to steal Tig's and deal with the consequences later if Half-Sack didn't comply had done the trick. _Poor kid_, V. though. _Doesn't want to see me get hurt_. She laughed hollowly at the idea.

Sighing, V. flopped herself down onto the slightly damp grass. It was quiet here; far enough away from the main road that she saw neither headlights nor house lights. There were, she saw when she checked the sky, lots of stars. V. was glad to have left the noise of the party behind her, along with all the questioning looks, Chibs' hands on her wrists, and the knowledge that Jax would be back by her side within minutes. She needed, desperately, for it all to go away. She only wished she'd thought to snag a bottle from the bar before she took off.

Though everything around her was silent, V.'s mind was loud. She wasn't generally much on introspection—she preferred to act, not to think. She lived in a world of response, reaction, not planning and plotting. Even now, her instincts were telling her to either keep riding until she was far away from Charming, or go back to the clubhouse and take whomever she ran into first to bed. _Fighting, drinking, fucking_, she remembered herself telling Chibs. _Not so much thinking or talking. Not being a girlfriend. _That was certainly the case. She wasn't acting much like a girlfriend, or even like a woman trying to be a girlfriend. The fighting was one thing, she could justify that—she was good at it, it might help the club. But what about the way she shied from anything but Jax's roughest touches? What she was doing with Chibs? What she could do? What about her constant craving for wrongness, for badness, for betrayal and violence and hate?

V. lit a cigarette, drawing in as much poisonous smoke as her lungs would allow. "I don't need this shit," she muttered aloud. She wasn't cut out to be an Old Lady. Those women subjugated themselves to their men's needs for decades, willingly taking supporting roles in their own lives, all for the sake of being close to them, serving them. It was never going to be her. But Jax knew that—she'd never lied to him about who she was. He wanted to try it anyway. That was on him.

_But you do lie,_ the insistent voice in V.'s head said. _You've started lying. Not just about how you feel, but about what you want._ _About what you're going to do. _V. shook her head as if she could rattle the intrusive thoughts out. Why would he expect anything else of her? Jax had heard, over and over again, from her and from others, what a user she was, what a whore. _I've always been trash_, she heard herself tell Ben. _Always been trash._

After Clay and Tig had satisfied him that no matter where Ben searched, he wasn't going to turn up a body, Jax returned to the clubhouse's main room to find V. Scanning and not seeing her, he nodded towards the stool where she'd been sitting. "Hey Bobby, you see where V. went?"

"Nah, brother." Bobby shook his head. "She cut out of here 20 minutes or so ago."

Jax scowled. Where the fuck could she have gone? He noticed Chibs across the room, a redheaded Crow Eater in his lap. Crossing the room in a couple of strides, he asked Chibs the same question he'd asked Bobby.

Chibs swallowed quickly, knowing the question shouldn't make him uncomfortable. "Don't know, kid. She took off a few minutes ago. Didn't say where she was headed."

"She upset?" Jax asked.

_Upset isn't the word I'd use,_ Chibs thought. _More like on fire. _"Dunno," he said, hoping his look was properly confused. "Hard to say with her."

The redhead reached out and stroked the side of Chibs' face. "You got other things to worry about, dontcha baby?" she asked.

Jax snorted. "I'll leave you to it, then," he said, walking away.

Chibs forced his attention back to the matter at hand. He had no doubt that wherever V. had gone, Jax would find her. And what would happen after that he didn't think about. Better to concentrate on this, the woman in his lap, her tits in his face. "Ach, darlin'," he said. "What do you say we take this somewhere more private?"

Fuming, Jax stormed back into the clubhouse only a few minutes later. "What's up?" asked Bobby from behind the bar.

"Fuckin' V. took Sack's bike and rode off." Jax shook his head.

"She took Sack's bike?"

"She asked first. Stupid fuck let her take it."

Bobby grinned. "Guess that's better than her jackin' it." He furrowed his brow at Jax's concerned face. "She can ride. She'll be OK."

Jax shook his head. She shouldn't be riding alone, at night, when she'd been drinking. And, after the confrontation with Ben, she should be here, ready to explain to him what the fuck that had all been about. Jax felt the last of his patience with V. slipping away. He was always worried about her, always on edge, not sure what she wanted, always afraid she'd go off, or disappear. It was exhausting, and it was distracting. He remembered her warnings, telling him she was not girlfriend material. Maybe she was right.

"Bottle and a glass, man," Jax finally said to Bobby, taking V.'s abandoned stool.

Jax drank steadily for about an hour, watching the party going on around him. Both Tig was on the pool table with a pair of blondes. Half-Sack had disappeared again with Tessa once Jax had slapped him upside the head and told him to get lost. Bobby was smoking yet another joint, beginning to nod out behind the bar. Things were winding down.

Jax startled as he felt a hand on the back of his neck. He knew, from the very gentleness of the touch, that it couldn't be V. Turning, he saw that it was a Crow Eater he'd been with before, the dark-haired girl V. had threatened not that many weeks ago. Seemed like a lifetime.

"You drinkin' alone baby?" she asked. "Want company?"

Jax put on his automatic smile. "Sure," he said, patting the stool next to him. Wasn't going to hurt to share what was left of his bottle. Besides, he could use some uncomplicated female company.

"You OK?" she asked, her eyes sympathetic. "You look sad."

"Not sad anymore darlin'," he replied easily, reaching for another glass and pouring her a drink. "Feelin' a lot better all of a sudden."

She smiled. When she laid her palm on his thigh, he didn't move it. As they chatted about nothing, she moved it incrementally, until it rested over the zipper of his jeans. Jax knew he had to make a decision, but felt oddly apathetic. Would it really matter either way? As he was thinking, his companion leaned in and brushed her lips against his. The kiss was soft, gentle. Unlike anything he'd felt in weeks. With her, he knew, there would be no wrestling for control, no demand of pain. He turned towards her, returning the gentle kiss, not pushing, enjoying, at least for the moment, being allowed tenderness.

A few minutes later, Jax and the woman were on the old sofa. She sat on his lap, facing him, grinding against him. His face was buried in her open shirt. Jax slipped into it like a pair of perfectly broken in jeans. He knew every move to make, what would result in a gasp from her, what would result in a surge of pleasure for him. Feeling her above him, hearing her giggle, he was right where he should be.

Sick to death of introspection, V. climbed back onto Half-Sack's bike and rode around a bit more before heading back to Teller-Morrow. She was calmer, now, but hadn't come to any breakthroughs or big decisions. If Jax was still around, she'd go home with him, try to explain about Ben, see where it got her. Or maybe she'd tell him that she'd tried and was done trying now, that she'd been right when she said she wasn't what he needed. As usual, thinking things out in advance seemed worthless. She wouldn't know until she got there.

Pulling into the parking lot, V. noticed the party seemed to be winding down. Clay and Tig sat at a picnic table, Tig with a cigarette, Clay with a cigar. They called to her as she passed, so she went over.

"Prospect said you threatened to take my bike," Tig said. "You wouldn't really be that stupid." His grin was mean.

V. smiled. "No, I wouldn't," she answered. "But it got him to give up his keys."

Clay shook his head. "You are a manipulative bitch."

V. felt a short burst of anger. That was fair, though. "Yeah," she finally agreed. "I guess so."

"Your cop boyfriend," Tig said. "He gonna cause us trouble?"

V. shook her head. "No." She paused, then decided to continue. "He put himself on the case to make sure to keep me out of trouble."

"You, but what about Sam Crow?" Clay puffed on the cigar. "Jealous man, might want to put the new guy behind bars."

"No," V. shook her head again, more vehemently this time. "Ben's not like that…it wouldn't even occur to him."

"You're awful sure of yourself," Clay said, sticking the cigar back between his teeth. "Think you got him all figured out."

"I do," V. said, simply. "He won't be a problem." Then she turned and walked towards the clubhouse.

"I don't like her, man," Tig said, watching V. walk away. "Bitch shouldn't be that hard."

Clay nodded. He'd known some hard-ass women in his time—hell, he was married to one of the hardest he'd ever seen—but there was something about V. that concerned him, too. All the trauma she'd seen, she should have been happy to be protected, taken care of. Even Gemma would have been. And yet she remained obstinate about taking care of herself, something she clearly wasn't all that good at. Watching her became more and more like noticing an accident right before it happens, and Clay was increasingly worried she was going to take Jax, or even the whole club, with her when she crashed.

Pushing the clubhouse door open, V. was surprised to see how few people were left in the room. _Must have taken their whores to their rooms,_ she thought cynically. Peering through the dim room, she noticed Chibs and his red-haired slut were gone. Just as well. Then, her eyes scanning for Jax, she saw him on the couch with the dark-haired Crow Eater. His hands were up the back of her shirt, his face obscured by her body.

V. felt herself go cold, then warm. It was a strange sensation, one she could scarcely place. She flashed on the last time she'd encountered this woman, then on the blonde woman who showed up at Teller-Morrow the night she killed Leo. The first wave of jealousy and rage was over almost instantly. Then there was something else…relief? Feeling almost as if she was watching herself from outside her own body, she stepped towards the couch, clearing her throat.

Jax looked up from the cleavage to which he was attending. He was surprised to see V. standing there. For some reason, he's assumed she was gone for the night.

"V…" Jax's voice was strained. He'd been caught stepping out before, of course, but it had been a long time, and he was never quite sure what to say about it. He moved as if to stand up, but the girl on his lap made that impossible.

"No," she said softly. "It's…fine."

Jax looked puzzled. Fine? He'd expected yelling, cursing, possibly blood. Definitely not fine.

The woman on Jax's lap was silent, remembering her last run-in with V. She didn't move, hoping that whatever the psycho bitch in front of her was going to do, it would be directed at her man.

"I'm sorry, V., I…" Jax began again.

V. cut him off. Her face wasn't sad or angry. She looked calm. "It's OK Jax," she said. "This is good." She nodded towards the woman. "It's better." She smiled, a vague expression that didn't reach her eyes. "Goodnight."

Jax sat stunned as V. walked away. The woman on his lap tried to turn his attention back to her, but he shook his head, moving her gently off his lap. "Sorry sweetheart," he mumbled, standing. "I gotta go."

The woman grabbed his hand. "Stay," she said. "Your Old Lady is OK with it."

Jax shook his head. It certainly did seem that V. was "OK with it." But he knew better than that. No woman he'd ever known was OK with watching her man rubbing up against another woman. He had to go try to talk to her. Then again, she'd made it clear she didn't want to talk—maybe following her would only make things worse. For a moment, Jax considered actually staying in the couch with the Crow Eater. That seemed like just as bad an idea as following V. Finally, frustrated, he stomped out of the clubhouse and to his bike. Fucking women. He'd be better off just going home.


	8. Chapter 8

"Have a goddamn muffin. You're gettin' skinny." Bobby pushed the plate of muffins across the bar at V., who was sitting on a barstool, drinking coffee. The room was still a wreck from the night before, and V. hadn't seen anybody else stir, but Bobby was oddly chipper.

"No, thanks," V. said, smiling. "I'm sure they are really good, though."

"They are good," Bobby said, motioning again to the plate. "Organic and shit." When she still didn't pick one up, he shrugged and grabbed another for himself. "Your loss." He looked closer at V. "You look like shit so skinny," he observed. "You should take better care of yourself." With that, he ambled back into the kitchen.

V. snorted. "Thanks," she muttered, getting up to leave the stool and return to her room with her coffee. As she rose, Chibs and the redheaded woman came through the door from the hallway. She was hanging on him and walking delicately; both of them were in their clothes from the night before. Changing her mind about leaving, V. leaned against the bar and waited for Chibs to see the red-haired woman out. After he did, he sat down next to her.

"You look tired," she said, grinning. "Coffee?"

He watched her for signs of something else—jealousy, anger, something that would end up with him scalded—but seeing nothing, he nodded. "Thanks, darlin'." His head was hammering. The redhead had ended up more of a handful than he'd anticipated and it had been an exhausting night.

Still looking amused, V. set a mug of coffee in front of him, then returned to her stool with her own mug. Thankful the coffee hadn't ended up in his lap, Chibs took a grateful drink. They sat there in silence for several minutes, feeling friendlier than they had since the night they'd spent together. Unable to resist after a while, V. fixed Chibs with a sidelong smirk. "You," she said, the laughter clear in her voice, "look like you got rode hard and put away wet."

Chibs glared at her. "Jealous?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

V. stretched and leaned back on her stool, allowing Chibs a good look at her hard, arched body. She smiled wider. "Maybe," she said.

_Jesus,_ Chibs thought. _Guess peacetime is over._ Before he could say anything else, though, Bobby returned to behind the bar and offered him the plate of muffins, giving him a welcome distraction. Chibs pretended not to notice Bobby's disapproving glance between him and V.

V. stayed on her stool, sipping her coffee and listening to Bobby rag on Chibs for his askew appearance. She felt oddly calm this morning, as if she did actually fit in her skin. Finally, she rose from her chair. "I'm headed out to the ring," she said.

"Don't you ever take a day off?" Bobby asked, shaking his head. "Watch some fuckin' TV or something? You know none of those girls stand a chance. You saw 'em last night."

"No sense being over-confident," V. replied. "Better to be sure." Both Bobby and Chibs watched her walk out of the Clubhouse.

Bobby and Chibs were still hanging out at the bar when Jax came into the clubhouse an hour later. He stalked through the room, then they heard him pound on V.'s door.

"Brother, she's out in the ring," Bobby called.

Jax reemerged from the hall. "Fuck," he muttered. "She pissed?"

Both Chibs and Bobby looked slightly confused. "No," Bobby said. "She seemed downright good-tempered."

Jax couldn't figure it out. He'd been with women with whom he could get away with a lot, but V. didn't strike him as the forgiving type. If anything, he'd expect her catching him with a sweetbutt would result in a physical altercation. Her passive response and the report of her cheerfulness caught him completely off guard.

"You trainin' today?" Jax finally asked, glancing at Chibs.

"Fuck no. Too much sun out there." Chibs replied. He had his sunglasses on even in the darkened clubhouse.

Jax snorted a laugh. He could sympathize. His head wasn't feeling to great this morning either. Still, he knew he'd have to talk to V. eventually, so he grabbed a beer and headed outside.

V. wasn't at the bag like Jax had expected. Instead, she was lying on her back inside the ring, her legs wound through the ropes, doing crunches. She was barefoot, wearing her cut-off denim shorts and sports bra. Her t-shirt was hanging over the rope. As he approached her, Jax noticed the sheen of sweat on her forehead, then her chest, then her scarred abdomen.

V. didn't stop doing crunches when Jax approached. He said nothing, just looked at her. He watched the slight movement of the cords of muscle built up at the sides of her stomach, but the path of the scar was still depressed, concave like a zipper holding her otherwise tight body together.

After a few moments, it was clear that V. was neither counting nor intending on stopping. "How do you know when you're done?" Jax asked.

"If I throw up, I'm done," she responded, slightly breathless. Her motion was not interrupted.

He reached out and ran a finger down the side of her stomach. V. ignored his touch, continuing with her crunches. _So she is pissed_, Jax thought. Finally, he reached out and grabbed her shoulder, effectively stopping her mid-crunch.

"About last night," he began.

"Jax, it's fine," V. cut him off, shaking her head. "Not a big deal." She started to resume her crunches.

"Wait, dammit," Jax grabbed her shoulder and stopped her again. "You aren't OK with this. No Old Lady is OK with this."

V. stopped and, for the first time, focused on Jax. "I'm not your Old Lady," she said simply.

"What?" A look of confusion crossed Jax's face. "Of course you are." _She must be hurt worse than I thought. Need to make that right._

"No, I'm not." When she said it the second time, Jax realized it wasn't hurt in her voice. She wasn't unsure. She was telling him they were through.

"Jesus, V." Jax knelt down, taking V.'s hand. "Don't say that. It's not that big a thing."

"No," V. agreed, "it's not. I said I'd try, and I did. But you and me, we aren't ever gonna live happy every after. I don't do happy ever after. So fuck whoever you want."

"I didn't fuck her."

V. shrugged. "Too bad." She smiled. "You can fuck the next one."

Jax felt the rage boil up inside him. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he hissed. "You think this is funny?"

"No." V. turned away. "But c'mon, Jax. You and I both know there's no good gonna come of trying to pretend we're something we're not. I can't be a girl for you to take care of. And I'll be goddamned if I'm going to be publically disrespected by you or any other man."

Jax didn't respond. He was quiet for a moment, then got up and left the ring. _Fine. Fuck her too. _

Chibs and Bobby had been joined at the bar by Juice and Tig when Jax reentered the clubhouse. He was scowling.

"What's up brother?" Bobby asked.

"Fucking women," Jax muttered. "Gimme another beer, man."

"Trouble in psycho bitch paradise?" Tig asked, laughing.

Jax didn't answer, just took a long swig of his beer.

"She see you rubbin' up on that Crow Eater last night?" Bobby asked. He'd apparently been more lucid than Jax thought, at least before V. came in.

Jax nodded.

"Shit," Juice said with a low whistle. "And you're still breathin'?"

"Can't imagine V. for the kinda Old Lady puts up with that shit," Bobby said.

"Turns out she's not any kind of Old Lady at all," Jax replied. Might as well get that announcement out of the way right off.

The whole group was quiet for a second, then Tig turned to Bobby. "You got any more of those muffins?"

V. wiped the steam from the bathroom mirror and looked at herself. Bobby was right—she was too skinny. Her body looked wiry and hard-muscled, most of her curve gone. She thought of her teenaged self, just out of girls' school, scared and hungry and trying to figure out what came next. She'd looked like this then. Except for the scar. She traced it with a finger. She wondered idly, would Ben have been so hot for her if she'd had this scar then?

As she rubbed her wet hair with her towel, V. thought about her conversation with Jax. She hadn't really had many break-up talks—most times, if there was anything to break up, there was some explosive event that did it, no words necessary. V. was aware, dimly, that she was supposed to feel something coming out of it—remorse, or anger, or regret, or sadness. As has so often been the case over the course of the past weeks, though, she didn't feel much of anything. It was better, she knew, for she and Jax to stop pretending they had a future. Better for him to focus his attention, his worry, his protection, on someone else. Better for her not to have to shrink from his tenderness, to be free to seek out the hurt she was craving.

V. knew, though, that she wasn't really all that free. If she was going to stay here, with SAMCRO, Jax still held sway. Regardless of whether or not she agreed to it, she was his if he wanted her to be. These boys were barely a step up from a pack of wolves, and even if she didn't wear an inked crow, Jax had marked her as his.

Which brought her to Chibs. Mostly, V. had been trying not to think about Chibs. When he was near her, her reaction to him was automatic, instinctual. She was attracted, not even to him so much as to the danger and discord he promised. She craved the feeling he gave her, that she was not in control, that she could be taken, used, hurt. It wasn't just that she knew he wanted her, but that she knew that he hated wanting her, that it was, for both of them, horribly wrong.

Pulling on her underwear and tank top, then lying back on her unmade bed, V. listened to the familiar sound of the clubhouse—voices, bottles, pool balls clinking together. She could, she supposed, go out to the bar, but tonight it seemed more trouble than it was worth. Suddenly, remembering it was there, she pulled a half empty bottle of Jim Beam from between her mattress and the wall. Drawing deeply on the bottle, she settled back against her pillow. _That's better._

V. wasn't sure how much time had passed when she heard the knock on her door. She'd downed about half of what was left in the bottle and wasn't feeling a thing. _Fuck,_ she thought, assuming it was Jax. _Leave me alone. _"Come on in, it's open."

V. sat up, slightly surprised, when Chibs opened the door. He closed it behind him, but didn't approach her, leaning instead against the doorframe. He raked his eyes over her bare legs. V. shivered slightly, feeling her nipples harden against her soft cotton tank top as his eyes rose up her body. Finally, she spoke. "Did you want something, or just come in here to stare?"

Chibs shook his head. "You are a mouthy bitch." He motioned to her to stand. "Clay wants to talk to you."

V.'s brow creased. A summons from the president always seemed like cause for concern. She rose slowly, keeping her eyes on Chibs, whose eyes were on her. While he watched, she pulled her jeans off the floor and put them on, then reached for a flannel shirt to pull over her tank top. As she approached Chibs, he opened the door, holding it for her in mock chivalry as she walked out.

Clay sat at the clubhouse bar, smoking a cigar and drinking a beer. Tig and Bobby were with him. He looked up as V. approached, but she couldn't tell anything from his expression. He didn't invite her to sit, or ask if she wanted a drink, which seemed like a bad sign. V. didn't say anything, just held his gaze.

"So," Clay began. "Prospect tells me you're looking for a new place to live."

V. was momentarily confused. It was true, she was looking for a new place to live, had been for a week or so now, but how would Half-Sack know that? _Must have overheard me on the phone, _she thought. _Sneaky little fucker._

V. nodded. "Yeah. Don't need to be protected anymore, so I thought I'd get outta your clubhouse. Haven't found anything yet, though."

"So you're done with us, then? Break it off with Jax, move out of here?"

V. was again confused. "Done?"

"The fight, princess," Chibs broke in. "Club already put in your stake."

"Oh," V. said, surprised. "You think I'd back out of the fight? No fuckin' way. I'm good to fight."

Clay nodded, but didn't seem satisfied. After an uncomfortable silence, V. continued. "Look, I know I owe Sam Crow. If it weren't for y'all, I'd still be running from Leo, or have been caught. I don't forget that." She paused, not accustomed to saying much at all to Clay, much less speech making. "As long as I can be of help, I'm a friend to the Club. That's got nothing to do with me and Jax."

Clay nodded again, this time smiling. "Good." He looked V. up and down in a way that made her only slightly uncomfortable. "I think you can definitely be of help."


	9. Chapter 9

V. kept her head down and her face in her work when she heard Gemma enter the office. She was not looking forward to the confrontation with the Queen she knew was on its way. While she couldn't say Gemma liked her, Gemma had at least started to be less mean to her of late, and that was surely going to end today.

V. didn't have to wait long. Gemma came right up to her at the desk, tapping her booted foot and looking down. "Apparently," she said sweetly, pulling on her cigarette, "I overestimated both your intelligence and your knack for self-preservation."

Groaning inwardly, V. looked up. "Yeah? I never claimed to be smart."

Gemma rolled her eyes, then continued as if V. hadn't spoken. "What I don't get is what you think it will get you. You think just because you can get in the ring and hit people you're part of the Club? I hate to tell you this, and you sure as fuck don't dress like it, but you're a girl. An Old Lady is the best you could ever hope to do. And Jax's Old Lady is a damn sight better than you deserve."

_Right,_ V. thought. _I think I'm gonna be part of the Club. That's fucking rich. _"No, Gemma," she said, sighing, "I don't think I'm gonna be part of the Club."

"So you're really so stupid that you'd throw away being Jax Teller's Old Lady because he fucked some tart?" Gemma sounded incredulous. "Never thought you'd be one to give up so easy."

V. decided before Gemma ever came into the office that honestly, or at least partial honesty, was probably her best bet. Still, it was hard to find the right words. "You were right to begin with," she finally said. "Jax needs something clean, something he can protect. I'm not clean." She turned back to her work.

"So it's self pity?" Gemma's face twisted in disgust. "You feelin' insecure?" She snorted. "Get over it."

V. felt her patience draining. She upturned her face to meet Gemma's steely gaze. "If you're gonna fire me, do it. Otherwise, we're done talkin' about this."

Slowly, Gemma nodded. Then she turned and stalked out of the office. V. leaned back and exhaled. _That went better than I expected,_ she thought.

***

Juice jerked awake, momentarily confused as to where he was. When he realized he'd fallen asleep in front of the clubhouse TV, playing a video game, he giggled. Looking at the lowered level of his bag of pot, it was pretty clear how his nap had been induced. Shaking his head groggily, he checked the time on his phone. 2 am. Better head to bed.

As he was getting up to go to his room, Juice heard an slight, odd, rhythmic noise. He normally wouldn't have noticed it, but everything else was very quiet. For a moment, he thought it was one of his brothers' bedsprings, but it didn't quite sound like that. And it seemed to be coming from outside. Making sure his pistol was snugly in its shoulder holster under his cut, Juice went outside to check it out.

Following the sound towards the boxing ring, Juice found not a particularly dense intruder, but V. She seemed not to notice him, her back turned and kicking the bag over and over again. In the dim glow from the streetlight, Juice saw there was blood dripping down her shin. He started to walk towards her, then changed his mind and turned back towards the clubhouse.

"What?" Chibs' voice was not kind when he woke to banging on his door. _Damn good thing I was in here alone_, he thought, _or there really would be hell to pay._

"Chibs, you gotta get up. You gotta see something." Recognizing Juice's voice, and the concern apparent in it, Chibs groaned and got out of bed. After pulling on his jeans, shirt, boots, and cut, he opened the door. As he followed Juice outside, he lit a cigarette.

"She's bleeding," Juice whispered, pointing towards V.'s shin, which was still connecting with the bag every few seconds. _Set, kick, re-set, kick._

Chibs nodded. "Go to bed," he told Juice. "I got this."

Juice considering arguing, but his head was still foggy, and he desperately wanted to go back to sleep. Plus it was cold. He turned and jogged back to the clubhouse.

Chibs walked closer to V., slowly exhaling his cigarette smoke through his nose. She didn't turn towards him, or slow her pace. He cleared his throat. She didn't respond. Finally, he reached out from behind her and grabbed her leg mid-kick. She spun to face him, steadying herself against the bag so she could stand on one leg.

When V. looked up at him, Chibs noticed her eyes. They were glassy, her pupils huge. _Jesus,_ he thought. _Gotta be speed. No wonder she never fucking sleeps._

"No matter what you do to that bag, it ain't gonna hit you back," he finally said. He ran his thumb roughly over her bruised, bleeding shin. Though she tried not to, V. shivered at the touch. Chibs dropped her shin, then ran the same thumb, slightly bloody now, over her t-shirt, between her breasts and down her stomach.

V. stared at Chibs with her glassy eyes. He moved his hand up from her belly, tangling it in hair and pulling her head back with a short, sharp jerk. She was standing so close now that he could feel her increased heart rate and see her pulse in her throat. It would be so easy to pull her down to the ground right here. He pictured it clearly, ripping her shirt off, her bare back against the concrete, drilling into her.

"What about you?" she said, her voice breathy, either from excitement or from the hours she'd spent working the bag. "You gonna hit me?"

He pulled his hand out of her hair and grabbed her hand. "C'mon," he pulled her away from the bag. "Let's go for a ride."

Chibs didn't help V. onto the bike, just got on and waited for her to climb on behind him. He said nothing, but knew she'd follow. He barely waited for her to grab the sides of his cut before he revved the engine and pulled out of the parking lot.

Chibs drove faster than he normally would through Charming's deserted streets. He wasn't sure where he was going with this plan, but it was take her out on the bike or fuck her in the parking lot, so this had seemed the safer option. It was only two more days until her fight, and he felt, superstitiously, like things would be better if he could just keep off her until then.

V. leaned forward, her face against the back of Chibs' cut, and tightened her grip on his waist. "Faster!" she yelled. Chibs smiled. _It's working_, he thought. He pushed the bike harder, taking a corner so quickly it felt like they were parallel to the pavement.

They rode for thirty or forty minutes in silence, out of Charming and on to the country road. Chibs kept the bike moving fast, trying to concentrate on the road and the wind rather than her arms. This grew progressively harder, though, as her hand moved slowly down from around his chest. At first, he thought he was imagining it. Then, it was unmistakable, he could feel the warm pressure of her hand cupping him through his jeans.

_Fuck,_ Chibs thought. _Bitch is gonna land us both in the fucking ditch._ He redoubled his effort to ignore her and concentrate on the road, but his cock hardened almost immediately under her hand. Her hand massaged him through his jeans, not hard, but with firm, knowing strokes. He inhaled, trying to summon the discipline to turn the bike around. She lowered her other hand, and he felt it on the button of his jeans. No fucking way he was going to turn around now.

Chibs turned the bike onto a smaller side road, slowing as he hit the gravel. As soon as he saw a spot to do it, he pulled over. When the bike stopped, he covered V.'s hand with his own, pushing it down more forcefully onto his cock. In the sudden silence after he killed the engine, she could hear his intake of breath. Before speaking, Chibs gathered himself, thinking briefly of Fi. Fi, who had taught him this game, taught him how sometimes being held and stroked isn't enough. She'd been all warrior then, young and strong and passionate about her cause, and when it got to be too much, she'd needed to submit to him completely to find her balance again.

Chibs moved his hand from on top of V.'s, then spoke. "Get your fucking hands off me," he said, his voice low and mean. V. removed both her hands immediately, pulling back from him. He threw his leg over the bike and stood, then jerked her head up to make sure she was listening before he spoke again. "You're not in charge anymore, princess. I'm not your Jackie-boy. I don't love you, and I'm not gonna try to protect you. To me, you're just another bitch tryin' to get hurt." He pulled her up off the bike, then pushed her down onto her knees in the roadside dirt. "You act like a crank whore, you're gonna get treated like one." He wrapped one hand in her hair, using the other to unzip his jeans.

V. felt the arousal surge through her. Her beat up shins burned against the gravelly dirt. Chibs' hand in her hair was not guiding her, but forcing her. She felt every inch of her body, first humming, then screaming. He hissed when he felt her hot mouth take him in, then deepened the sound when he pushed past her teeth and into her throat. His firm hand held her still, but there was no time for technique, no ministrations with her lips and tongue. He thrust into her mouth quickly, forcefully, rhythmically, like her shin against the punching bag.

After he came, Chibs refastened his pants and got back on the bike. He neither helped V. from her knees nor said anything. Slowly, still slightly surprised at what had transpired, V. rose and climbed back on to the back of the motorcycle. As soon as he felt her settle behind him, Chibs started the engine and took off.

On the way back to the clubhouse, V. held fast to Chibs, her arms tight around him. Her heart was still pounding. He continued to steer the bike tightly and quickly around corners, his mind blessedly blank. He would worry, later, about whether it was the right thing—for her or for him. He would feel guilty for once again having been with a woman who was still certainly Jax's, whether officially or not. He would tell himself it wouldn't happen again. For now, though, he only felt the wind, the speed, the pavement, and a sense of strange fulfillment.


	10. Chapter 10

Chibs wasn't surprised when V. seemed to avoid him the following day. This, too, he'd learned from Fi. Though he'd given her nothing but what she wanted, she'd always been angry afterwards. Angry at herself for wanting it, at him for giving, at both of them for liking it. Then she'd avoided him right up until her need got too bad again.

Whether V. wanted to see him or not, though, she had a fight tomorrow. After finishing in the shop for the day, Chibs went to the office to get her. "Afternoon Gemma," he said. "OK if I steal your help? Fight trainin'."

"Sure darlin'. She's not doing much here anyway." Gemma hadn't made any more inquiries about Jax, but she was taking every opportunity to dig at V.

V. said nothing to either one of them, just rose from the desk and walked out the door, pushing past Chibs.

"Real fuckin' friendly lately, ain't she?" Gemma said, smirking. Chibs just shook his head and followed V. to the ring.

Outside, V. didn't even look at Chibs, just stripped her flannel shirt off and began warm up jump roping. Chibs sat on the picnic table and watched her. He noticed again how thin she'd gotten. Her shins were dotted with purple and gray bruises, layered over older yellowing ones. There were circles under her eyes, and her teeth were gritted in determination as she swung the rope and jumped.

"Alright, that's enough," he yelled. Then, "PROSPECT!" After a moment, Half-Sack emerged from the garage. "Suit up—V. needs to train for her fight."

"She can't practice on you?" Half-Sack grinned.

"No." Chibs all but growled. The Prospect, having grown used to his sponsor's moodiness, began to strip his garage coveralls off and walk towards the ring.

As V. and Half-Sack shadow boxed, the other Sons started to drift out of the garage and onto the picnic tables. "We gonna make our money tomorrow?" Tig asked Chibs. "Been puttin' out the word all week—ought to have quite a turn out."

Chibs nodded. "We'll make our money. Oughta take any side action we can get." His eyes followed V., who easily blocked and ducked Half-Sack's punches.

Clay, who had followed Tig out of the garage, broke in. "You sure on that? We got no extra cash to be losin' right now."

"She won't lose." Chibs motioned towards the ring, where V. had taken the offensive and was throwing half-speed punches at Half-Sack.

"You're awful damn confident," Clay grumbled. "Sure of yourself."

"Not myself I'm sure of," Chibs responded. "Nothin' I can tell her she don't already know. She's just good."

"She better than Sack?" Juice asked, noticing V. had trapped Half-Sack in one corner of the ring.

Chibs raised an eyebrow. "He's faster. Probably stronger, too. But she's smarter. And she's not afraid of pain."

In the ring, they'd switched again and V. was on the defense, ducking and blocking. "What about the gut?" Clay asked. "The core thing?"

Chibs shook his head. "She's right about that. Never gonna get that strength back. But she won't need it. None of the chick fighters they're gonna pit her against gonna last that long."

Clay nodded. "Get her over here."

"V., c'mere!" Chibs yelled.

V. stopped, turned, and was clearly about to say something, but stopped when she saw Chibs was no longer alone. Realizing the summons was probably from Clay and not Chibs, she hopped out of the ring and approached the group.

"You ready to fight?" Clay asked.

V. nodded.

"You know we're staking money on you. Money we need."

V. nodded again. "I'm not gonna lose. Lay your money on me, you'll get your return."

Clay smiled. "OK. You know the pre-fight rules? No booze, no dope…"

V. smiled and broke in. "And no pussy?" She smiled, then raised an eyebrow. "You sure I don't get an exception on that one?"

There was a round of uncomfortable throat clearing as the mental picture V.'s words brought up hit each man's mind. "Far be it from me," Clay said smoothly, "to keep you from…pussy."

V. grinned again, then turned back to Half-Sack. "We done, or you got some more in you?"

***

V. sat cross-legged on her bed, drinking periodically from a bottle she'd filched from the bar. _Fuck Clay's rules. _She was running her finger down the "For Rent" listings in the meager local paper, looking for a new place. She tried to keep her mind focused on the task at hand, away from both Chibs and the fight. She was restless, though, unable to stay in one place or stick to one thought for long.

"Dammit," she muttered, getting up to pace the small room again. It was going to be a long fucking night cooped up in here, but she'd already promised herself she wouldn't leave. _Don't need a repeat of last night. No. Fuck. Don't think about last night._ She sat back down. _Fuck. _

The knock on the door was tentative. V. furrowed her brow. "It's open." She was surprised when she looked up to see it was Jax.

He seemed so big in the doorway, filling it up. It felt incongruent in combination with the puzzled, almost sheepish expression on his face. He shut the door behind him, then leaned against it. "Hey."

"Hey."

"Clay'll have your ass for breakin' pre-fight rules." Jax motioned to the bottle in V.'s lap.

V. smiled. "Not gonna matter." _Jesus, this is awkward._ She held the bottle out to him. He took a step forward and took it, looking at it for a moment before taking a drink.

They were both quiet for a long, tense moment. Finally, he spoke again. "You lookin' for a new place?" He pointed towards the paper.

"Yeah. The Club has been really nice to let me stay here this long, but I gotta get my own space."

Jax nodded. "Will you keep working in the office?"

"Long as Gemma will have me." V. half-smiled.

Jax groaned. "She givin' you trouble?"

V. shook her head. "She's just bein' your mom is all. She'll be OK. Didn't like the idea of you and me together anyway."

Jax exhaled. "Guess you have that in common, then."

_Ah, here it comes._ V. sat back and waited for the rest of whatever he had to say. He waited a moment, then continued. "Look, V…I know you don't want to be an Old Lady. I get that. But..." he trailed off, then picked back up. "Is it just that you don't wanna be an Old Lady, or is it that you don't want me? After…that night…you seemed different. Like what you were gettin' from me wasn't workin'. Is that what this is about?"

V. remained quiet. It was clear that Jax had given some thought to what he was asking, and that it was hard for him to do it. Still, the last thing she wanted to do was discuss the night she killed Leo, or how she'd felt since. She felt a surge of irrational anger. If Jax knew anything about her at all, he'd know that wasn't a subject up for discussion. She sighed. "You know what it's about, Jax. I told you. I'm not what you need, and I'm not gonna be."

"What if I don't need you to be anything?" He stepped closer to her. Though he'd never admit it, he'd been thinking about her all week. The simple truth was that he wanted her, wanted to be with her, more than he ever had any woman but Tara. In fact, it was that same "gotta be with you all the time" feeling that had characterized his relationship with Tara, the first time, that he felt now. A week spent ignoring and avoiding V. had seemed like an eternity. He looked down at her still sitting on the bed, taking in her tired, pretty face. "What if I just want to be with you?"

V. felt the weight of Jax's words and wondered what offer he was trying to make. When he bent down and kissed her, she responded automatically, her lips parting easily to allow his tongue into her mouth. She felt almost as if someone else had taken over her body, acting without regard to her thoughts, as she wrapped her arms around Jax's neck and pulled him down to the bed with her.

Breathlessly, V. pulled her lips away from Jax's. "You know this won't change anything?" she asked.

He nodded, his fingers already under the hem of her tank top. "Just want you," he murmured, lifting the shirt over her head.

Though she wasn't particularly convinced, V. didn't stop him. She leaned back, letting him hold her around the waist while his lips traveled down her chest. Feeling his scratchy goateed chin against her breasts, she moaned softly. Encouraged, Jax continued to kiss down her belly, lying her gently on the bed.

When Jax looked up, he saw that V.'s eyes were closed. She seemed relaxed and almost passive, allowing him to touch and kiss her. He reached up, tracing her lips with his finger, and she smiled. Jax was amazed. He hadn't seen her this accepting of affection since before the night she killed Leo. He stretched out beside her on the narrow bed, holding her face in his hands and kissing her again.

It wasn't until Jax was moving inside her that V. started to panic. While he'd kissed and touched her, she'd continued to feel as if she was not in her body, but outside, watching. Now, though, she could feel his gentleness, and opening her eyes, she saw his expression, not anger, but love. _No,_ her mind screamed. _Don't love me! Hate me, hit me, fuck me, hurt me, but don't love me. _

"Harder." She breathed, lifting her hips. She closed her eyes quickly, then, not wanting to see the look of disappointment she was sure was crossing Jax's face. He complied, though, thrusting harder to meet her raised hips.

For the first time since she and Jax started sleeping together, V. didn't come before Jax. He didn't notice, or didn't mention it if he did. He lay next to her, catching his breath, and said nothing. The room felt just as awkward as it had when he'd first come in.

"You staying?" she finally asked.

Jax rolled out of the bed, standing and reaching for his pants. "No. Can't. Abel…" he trailed off.

V. nodded. Jax watched her expression for signs than his leaving hurt her. He saw none. Already, he was beginning to think he'd imagined those moments when she was relaxed and seemed to be enjoying his touch. She leaned up against the wall, the sheet wrapped around her, and lit a cigarette.

Dressed, Jax looked at her again. Her eyes seemed far away. "You OK?" he asked, knowing before it was even out of his mouth that he shouldn't ask.

V. rolled her eyes. "I'm fine."

"Right. Sorry I asked." Jax didn't attempt to keep his anger out of his voice. Having had those few moments of believing he and V. might be on the same page made the whole situation that much more frustrating. Whomever he thought he saw before, she was gone now, replaced by this cold-faced statue with her cigarette.

"You comin' to the fight?" V. wasn't sure why she was asking, but wanted to know.

"Yeah. It's club business."

She nodded. She wasn't sure if him being there would make it easier, or harder.


	11. Chapter 11

The day of the fight passed slowly. V. was unable to sit still or concentrate on anything, and the mood in the clubhouse was restless and tense. "Sit the fuck down!" Bobby finally yelled at V., as she paced her fortieth or fiftieth lap around the room.

"Sorry." She perched on a barstool. She wanted to ask Bobby for a drink, but knew he wouldn't give her one—pre-fight rules and all that. She drummed her fingers against the bar. She lit a cigarette, but didn't particularly feel like smoking it, so she watched it burn.

Half-Sack sat next to V. and immediately starting giving her fight advice. "Remember, it's not like a real fight—not many rules. More like cage fighting or something." He spoke quickly, clearly excited. "You could probably even do your kicking shit!"

V. laughed. "The kicking shit is real fighting, Sack. But I don't think that's gonna be necessary."

Half-Sack looked confused. "Why do you practice it if you aren't going to use it?"

V. laughed again, then raised an eyebrow. "Keeps me limber."

Half-Sack reddened slightly. Hopping off her stool, V. leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Thanks for the tips." The Prospect reddened further as V. walked away.

"Still outta your league," Bobby said from behind the bar, laughing and slapping Half-Sack upside the head.

It was nearly time to leave for the fight when Happy walked into the clubhouse. "Hey brother!" Clay said, hugging him. "Didn't expect to see you again so soon." Happy had taken off the morning after the confrontation with Leo.

"Heard there might be a fight worth watchin'." The gravelly voiced biker smiled as V. walked towards him. "You ready to kick some ass darlin'?" He didn't wait for her to answer, just picked her up in a hug.

Just as quickly as he'd picked her up, Happy put V. down, then backed a bit away from her and looked at her quizzically. "These assholes been starvin' you?" Looking at her, his eyes confirmed what he'd felt when he hugged her—in the weeks since he'd seen her, she'd begun to disappear. She was thin to begin with, but now he could see her collarbones jutting out above her tank top and her jeans hanging off her hips. Her face looked bad, too. The hot, tough woman he'd first met was barely a shadow in her hollow, dark-circled eyes.

"Nah, just gettin' back to fighting weight," she said, smiling. Even her smile looked brittle.

Happy didn't argue, just smiled back at her. "Good to see you. Lookin' forward to watchin' you kick some ass."

"I'm glad you're here." Though she couldn't put into words just why, Happy's presence made V. feel safer.

From the pool table, Chibs yelled to V. "You ready?"

"Just a minute, gotta change."

V. went back to her room to change. As soon as she left the room, Happy turned to the Sons standing around the pool table. His eyes were wide. "What the fuck?"

Clay shook his head. "She's goin' through some shit, for sure."

Happy furrowed his brow. "Where's Jax?"

Before V. returned, the assembled members of Sam Crow briefly filled Happy in on V.'s strange behavior, drinking, the fight with Half-Sack, and her breakup with Jax. He shook his head and said nothing. When V. came back into the room, it was fairly clear they'd been talking about her, but she pretended not to notice.

"So," she said, pasting on her smile and hoping she sounded more confident than she felt, "which one of you boys wants to give a girl a ride to her fight?" As she spoke, she thought, for the millionth time since she'd arrived in Charming, that it was long past time for her to get her own wheels.

"You can ride with me," Happy said. Seeing V. smile at the offer, Chibs thought of the last ride he'd taken with V., of her hands searching him out, and wondered if she had the same surprise in store for Happy. _How many of us, _he wondered, _will she try to play with? How much damage can she do while she's searching for someone to hurt her?_ As she followed Happy out of the room, Chibs saw V.'s eyes turn to him. There was something like laughing victory in them. He felt his brief surge of jealousy replaced by anger. _Manipulative fucking slut._

The warehouse in which the fights were held was far more crowded than was usually the case at the beginning of the evening, when the women fought. The word the Sons had put out about something special being on the tonight's menu had clearly been taken seriously. As per their plan, the SAMCRO members spread out as soon as they hit the room, each of them with a bankroll and instructions on making as many side bets as they could find before V.'s fight. V. sat quietly to the side of the room, observing the action and waiting for it to be time to get in the ring. She was slated for the last female fight of the night, so there were two to sit through before her turn.

V. found herself searching Jax out of the crowd even though doing so wasn't her intention. When she didn't see him at the clubhouse before the fight, V. wondered if Jax had decided not to come. Her eyes found him leaning against the room's far wall. Twice, he had short conversations with other men, both of whom took cash from him and made notes in small notebooks. Opie, Bobby, and Tig were doing the same thing in other parts of the room. _Good,_ V. thought. _This is gonna be worth their time. _

As the end of the second fight approached, Chibs appeared from the crowd and knelt in front of V. "You ready?"

She nodded. She'd been excited for weeks about finally getting back into the ring, but now she felt unexpectedly scared and hesitant. She gripped the bottom of her chair to keep her hands from shaking. She just wanted her fight over with.

"You aren't gonna have any trouble," Chibs said. "But remember to guard your belly, and end it as fast as you can."

She nodded again. He wasn't telling her anything he hadn't already told her, or anything she didn't know for herself. What he said next, though, shocked her. "Once she starts hitting you, you're gonna want to let her keep at it. Don't."

V. looked up at Chibs, surprised. "What?" he said, grinning a bit sadly. "You think you're the only person ever wanted to be hurt?" He turned, then, and headed towards the ring, making it clear that he wasn't opening the subject up for questions.

In her corner of the ring, V. attempted to concentrate on the fight promoter's recitation of the minimal fight rules. She'd sized up her opposition already—the girl, who called herself Rosie, was younger, bigger, and likely faster than V. She was also not less than a year recovered from being cut in half. She wasn't one of the fighters V. had seen the week before, but was very much cut from the same cloth. V. sighed, feeling suddenly very old and very tired.

Standing behind V. in her corner, Chibs saw her shoulders slump. Her posture was nothing like what she brought to the ring the day she fought him, or the day she took Half-Sack apart. He'd expected to see angry set shoulders, a determined glare, a glimmer in her eye that made it clear that she loved this. Instead, she looked exhausted. Previously, Chibs had no reservations about the expected outcome of the fight. Suddenly, he was concerned.

Before Chibs could worry much, or say anything to V., the fight began. The first round was less than thrilling. Rosie was strong, but slow. She also fought without much originality, so even though it was clear to those who knew her that she wasn't completely committed to the fight, V. was able to block and duck her punches with no real trouble.

"What the hell is wrong with V?" Tig snarled to Clay from where they were watching. "She's fighting like a bitch."

Clay shook his head. It was only the first round, but so far he wasn't happy. He nudged the Prospect. "What's she doin'?"

Half-Sack looked puzzled. "I dunno," he said. "Maybe she's got a plan."

"Her winnin' is the plan," Clay grumbled.

The beginning of the second round resembled the first. V.'s opponent was gaining confidence, and by the end of the round, she caught V. off guard and landed a punch to her left eye. As she recoiled, V. smiled. She made no attempt at all to block the next punch, allowing it to land with a dull thud against the side of her mouth.

By the time V. returned to her corner after the second round, Tig and Clay were both shooting Chibs deathly glares. He knew he'd be considered partially responsible if she ended up costing the Club money. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" he hissed.

V. turned towards him and smiled through bloody lips. Her eyes were glassy. She looked almost stoned, or enamored, like a woman being sweet-talked. Or fucked. Her tongue darted out, tasting the blood. "What?" she asked, seeming confused by Chibs' anger.

Chibs grabbed her shoulder, hard, and leaned down to whisper in her ear. "Your days with Sam Crow are numbered if you let this bitch beat you. I thought you were a fighter. Are you just a skinny, speed-freak whore now?" His grip on her shoulder tightened to the point of pain. "I don't care how much you get off on it, you stop lettin' this gash hit you. End this."

The dazed expression on V.'s face began to fade away. _Where have I been?_ she thought. She was barely aware of being in the ring, much less having already been through two rounds. She squared her shoulders, refocusing on Chibs' looming face. "I got it."

"You'd fucking better." Quickly, in a move he sincerely hoped none of his brothers saw, Chibs dropped his hand from V.'s shoulder to her breast, where he tweaked her pierced nipple, hard, through her shirt. "And when this is over," he growled, "you and me gonna have a talk about whose bike you ride on."

V. felt a familiar chill go through her. She turned her face up to meet Chibs eyes, and saw there was fire in the gaze he fixed her with. He saw her face open the rest of the way, the color rising in her cheeks.

When the third round started, V.'s eye had already begun to swell. Her lip had stopped bleeding, but the metallic taste was still in her mouth. Had she looked up, she'd have seen every assembled member of SAMCRO looking worried. She didn't look around, though. She was concentrated completely on the woman facing her from across the ring.

Bolstered by the first two rounds, Rosie came out of her corner full force. She swung at V.'s face mercilessly, focusing on hitting V. and giving no thought to protecting herself. V. met her with her own attack. Though she could feel punches landing on her face, she didn't hesitate, ignoring being hit completely as she threw punches of her own.

It took only a few seconds for V. to land her first punch, hitting the younger woman hard, square in the nose. There was a crunch, then she jumped back, raising her hands to protect her gushing face. V. didn't relent, but landed two more quick jabs, one to either side of the woman's head. Both were at full force, and the young woman staggered backwards towards the ropes. V. followed, fists still flying. The young woman reached out to grab the ropes, trying to keep herself upright. V. didn't hesitate, landing another punch to Rosie's face. As V. watched, Rosie's eyes fluttered and she slipped down the ropes. She wasn't completely out, but there was no way she was getting back up. The referee's hand hit the floor, and it was over.


	12. Chapter 12

"Ug." V. looked at her reflection in the mirror with distaste. The black eye was not the worst she'd ever had, but it wasn't the prettiest, either. There was another darkening bruise along her jaw line to match it, and even the non-bruised parts of her face had an unpleasant yellow hue. Her lips were chapped and the bottom one was swollen. _Aren't I just a fucking hottie?_ she thought. She could hear the party—her party—beginning in the clubhouse beyond her room, and could imagine the parade of sweetbutts filing in. The sour look the idea engendered didn't improve the image she saw in the mirror.

V. picked up a makeup brush, then put it back down. _No use trying to hide it,_ she thought. _They all know I got hit._ She twisted her wet hair up on her head and pinned it, then reached for her jeans. "Damn," she muttered, realizing that her jeans were so dirty they were nearly standing up on their own. She'd spilled coffee on her cargo pants that morning, and now her cut offs were spattered with blood. Sighing, she rummaged around on the floor until she found the short denim skirt she'd worn to Cara Cara. _Tomorrow, laundry_, she thought, lacing her boots.

The gathering in the clubhouse let out a cheer when V. entered the room. "There she is!" Bobby yelled. Happy, who was standing the closet to the door V. walked through, grabbed her around the waist and swung her around. As he put her down, Bobby handed her a beer.

V. sat down at the bar, smiling at her admirers. "You made us a shitload of money tonight, darlin'," Clay said, taking the stool next to her. He motioned at Jax, who meandered over. "V.P., give the girl her share."

V.'s eyes widened slightly as Jax took a large roll of bills from his pocket and handed it to her. "My share?" she said.

"You're the one got bloody," Clay said. "We figure you oughta get paid for that." He smiled. "'Sides, we want you to do it again."

V. smiled back. "Anytime," she said. She shoved the roll of cash into her pocket.

"What was with those first two rounds?" Tig asked. "You shoulda warned us you were gonna put on a show."

V. smiled. "Gotta give people their entertainment," she said, hoping she was convincing. When she met Chibs' eyes, she knew there was at least one man she hadn't fooled. In truth, V. was still reeling from the first two rounds of the fight. She'd never entered a ring unprepared to fight back before. No matter how self-destructive her behavior, no matter who she fucked or what she drank or how much she drugged, she'd always wanted to fight back. Even when the smarter thing would have been to throw a fight, she hadn't been able to do it. The urge to protect herself, to hit back, was just too strong. Before tonight's fight, when Chibs had warned her that she'd want to feel her opponent's fists, she'd thought he was crazy. As it turned out, he'd been right. Of this, as much as anything that had happened over the past weeks, V. was frightened.

"Hell of a shiner just for people's entertainment," Jax said. The look on his face said that he wasn't buying V.'s explanation for the first rounds either.

"Eh, looks worse than it is," she said. "Besides, it makes me look tough." She nodded and smiled towards Juice, who was behind the bar. "Can a girl get a shot around here?"

An hour later, V. was several shots in and beginning to feel better about the whole situation. The fight way not have gone exactly as she'd expected, but she'd won, and made the Club a nice wad of cash, some of which had been thrown her way. _I have a right to celebrate that,_ she thought. _Been a long time since I've had a victory._ She got up from her stool, beer bottle in her hand, and looked around the room. The scene was typical—a couple of guys shooting pool, a couple on the couch with Crow Eaters, or dancing wrapped up in them, a few smoking and talking. As she headed towards the pool table, V. swayed in time with the music.

Chibs' hands on her hips took her by surprise, so she turned around to face him. He linked his hands together in the small of her back, so she smiled tentatively and put her arms around his neck, left hand still loose around the neck of her bottle. "Didn't take you for a dancer," she said.

He didn't answer, just smiled and pulled her closer to him. She felt small against his chest, a feeling to which she was unaccustomed. It wasn't bad. _Kind of nice, actually_, she thought, allowing herself to relax into his arms. Her body, as if of its own accord, moved in slow, sultry waves to the rhythm of the music. He moved barely at all, just held her progressively tighter against him. He could smell the conditioner in her still-wet hair, the citrus soap smell that clung to her skin, and underneath that, something less romantic and more desperate.

When she sighed, he felt her breasts rise against his chest. He slid one big hand down, cupping her ass briefly, then ran it back up her spine, under the hem of her shirt. A brief moment of panic fluttered in V.'s chest. _I can't do this,_ she thought. _People are watching._ Yet she felt pulled towards him. She laid her hot face against the cool of his cut, inhaling his smell of cigarettes and leather and axel grease.

Chibs' mind was spinning. He knew he shouldn't be touching her here, in front of everybody. He could feel his brothers' eyes on them. He knew, too, that he needed to snap out of the gentle way he was holding her. Even if she was allowing it now, she likely wouldn't for long—it was neither what she wanted nor what she needed. Yet, when she rubbed up against him, winding her arms tighter around his neck, he certainly felt like what she wanted.

V. turned around then, leaving one arm wound up around Chibs' neck, the other holding her beer bottle at her hip. She continued to shimmy, her ass against him, leaning back against his chest. He wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her tight and grinding back against her. She felt his hardness against her ass and smiled as she brought her bottle back up to her lips.

As she lowered her bottle, V. looked around the room. She wasn't surprised when her eyes met Jax's. He was on the couch, a blonde in his lap. His eyes were angry. Chibs, who'd been avoiding his brothers' gazes, looked up then too, and didn't miss the look on Jax's face. He leaned down, whispering in V.'s ear. "You wanna start somethin' here?"

She leaned back far enough for him to see her face. "You started this," she said. She ground against him a bit harder, making sure she hit him where she knew he wanted it. "And I know you wanna finish it. You man enough?" Before he could respond, she unwound her arm from around his neck and moved away, returning to her place at the bar. He watched with surprise as she poured herself a shot. _Goddamn infuriating woman. _He knew she wanted him, he'd felt her heat against him, but she was still in this for the game, the struggle. It wasn't going to be enough for them to fall on each other—he was going to have to take her.

"What the fuck was that about?" Bobby's voice broke Chibs out of his thoughts. "You tryin' to get your ass kicked?" The older man shook his head with disgust. "I told you once already. Club don't need shit between you and Jax over that girl." He jerked his head towards where V. was sitting at the bar, teasing a blushing Half-Sack. "Woman like that is more trouble than she's worth. You of all people oughta know that."

Chibs didn't answer. He was steaming, furious at himself for getting carried away, and at V. for humiliating him in the sight of all the eyes he'd felt on them. She knew the risk he was taking touching her in full view of the Club. That wasn't enough danger for her, enough destruction? He wanted to go pull her off that damn stool. _Bitch wants pain, I'd be happy to oblige,_ he thought.

Before Chibs could decide what to do, Jax had risen from the couch and walked towards him. "Outside," he said, his voice low. _Fuck_.

From her stool, V. watched them go out the door. When she stood as if to follow, Happy's hand went down over her wrist and pulled her back to her stool. "Leave it," he said, in a tone with which she wouldn't dare argue.

Outside, Chibs spoke quickly, before Jax had the chance. "Jackie-boy, I know you want to kick the shit outta me. I don't blame ya. But let me talk first?"

Jax scowled. "Talk fast." His fists and face were clenched.

Chibs lit a cigarette, then spoke. "You ever know a woman like V. before? One carryin' so much shit around?"

Jax didn't answer. _No,_ he thought. Wendy and Tara had both been through far less than V., but neither of them had really carried it. Wendy had turned to drugs, Tara had run away over and over again. V. was different. Everything she'd been through, everywhere she'd been, was with her all the time. She never escaped.

Chibs continued. "You see what happened in the ring tonight? V. letting herself get hit?"

Still scowling, Jax nodded.

"She needs the pain. Only thing she can feel. Only thing that breaks through all the shit in her head." He exhaled. "Brother, you know you can't give her that."

Jax stepped forward, menacing. "You don't know shit about what I can give her." Even as he spoke, though, he thought of the increasing aggression in his and V.'s sexual encounters before they broke up, of her unwillingness to accept affection. He'd known then that she wanted him to hurt her, but hadn't really let himself think about what that meant.

"I know you," Chibs said. "And I don't think it's in you to hurt a woman. Even if she wants you to."

"But you're all about it?" Jax snorted. "Just doin' a good deed? Wanna make sure V. gets what she needs?" His fists clenched again. "You fuckin' her?"

Chibs swallowed. "No." He hated himself for lying, but felt like he'd have been admitting to more than had actually happened if he answered any differently.

"But you want to?"

Chibs didn't answer. It wasn't, he figured, a question that required response.

"You in love with her?"

This question took him by surprise. Trust romantic Jackie-boy to ask it. He stumbled. "No. I…I don't know if I have it left in me to be in love." He smiled. "But it's more than me just wantin' to fuck her, if that's what you're askin'." He took another drag of his cigarette. He knew, as he said it, that it was true—it had originally just been about how much he wanted V. The first time they'd been together, that was all that he'd been thinking. Now, though, there was more. He felt like had had something to prove, not just to her or himself, but to the long absent from his life ghost of the last woman who had looked at him with the need he saw in V.'s eyes.

Jax shook his head, his fists forgotten for the moment. "She doesn't love me," he said, finally.

"She doesn't know how," Chibs responded. "Bein' an Old Lady, belongin' to somebody, bein' kept safe. She don't get that."

Jax shook his head again. "And she thinks you won't try to keep her safe?" His expression moved from confusion back to anger. "She's so hot on bein' fuckin' hurt, why not Happy? Why not Tig? Hell, why not stay in Texas? Plenty of men around willing to hurt her."

It was a good question. One Chibs had wondered on himself. "Don't know, brother," he said. "Maybe she's not that far gone?" He didn't tell Jax what he really suspected, that, consciously or not, V.'s interest in him was based on what would hurt Jax the most. It wasn't, he knew, just pain that V. wanted. She craved destruction. Whether she understood it or not, she wanted everybody to hurt just as much as she did. This, too, he'd learned from Fi. His wild, damaged Fi, who'd run straight to Jimmy when his darkness wasn't enough for her anymore. There's always more hurt.

"Stay away from her," Jax finally said, his voice low again, but more defeated than angry now. Chibs didn't respond, just watched his friend walk towards his bike, start it, and ride away.


	13. Chapter 13

When V. came out into the clubhouse's main room the next morning, she found Happy waiting for her. "Good, you're up," he said. "C'mon. We're taking a ride."

V. looked at Happy quizzically. "Where we goin'?"

Happy grinned. "You'll see when we get there." He raised an eyebrow at her, seeing she was wearing the same skirt she'd had on the night before. "Can you ride in that?"

V. rolled her eyes. "Not decently. Hang on, I'll be right back." A few moments later, she returned in her dirty jeans. "You really not gonna tell me where we're going?"

"Nope." He turned towards the door.

As she followed him out to the lot and climbed on the back of his bike, V. wondered if she was making a mistake by not asking further questions. Try as she might, though, she couldn't muster up worry. She trusted Happy. Besides, it was a gorgeous morning, and she wasn't much looking forward to the looks and possible questions she'd get once the other inhabitants of the clubhouse started waking up. She smiled at Happy when he turned to hand her his extra helmet.

The ride was fairly brief. When they turned onto the highway, V. hoped they were going a long way, maybe all the way to Tacoma—it felt so good to be riding behind Happy, the wind in her face, not thinking about anything. She was surprised when after only a few miles, he pulled into Stockton. She half expected that he would turn towards the prison, but instead he turned into an neighborhood. He threaded through the streets in a way that seemed practiced, as if he knew exactly where he was going. Then, in front of a small, neat house that looked exactly like every other small, neat house on the block, he stopped.

V. remained on the bike when Happy got off. Her mind had begun to race. _Are we here to kill someone? Why is that my first thought? _She looked at Happy. _Oh, yeah. That's why._

He turned and reached a hand out to her. "C'mon."

She got off the motorcycle, unhooking the helmet from under her chin and hanging it next to Happy's on the handlebars. He walked towards the garage. His complete lack of anything resembling sneakiness put V.'s fears that they were here to commit a murder at rest. She was surprised to see him fish a garage door opener from his cut pocket and squeeze it, causing the door to open.

"Happy, what the hell are we doing here?" she finally asked, closing the distance between them.

"Got something for you," he said, his voice gruff. He jerked his head towards the car parked in the neat garage.

"What?" V. was completely confused. "We're stealing a car? At 11am?"

Happy chuckled. "No." He walked into the garage and laid his palm against the hood of the car. "It's mine. Well, my mom's."

V. followed him into the garage, where she looked more closely at the car. It was a Dodge Charger. 1970 if she wasn't mistaken. Looked to be in good condition, too. "Your mom's?" She still wasn't following. Trust Happy to have a mom who drove a classic American muscle car.

"Yeah. She's in a nursing home now. Not gonna need it. You do."

V. looked at the car, then at Happy. "I can't take your mom's car." She smiled. "But it's really nice of you to…"

He cut her off. "Look. You need wheels. My mom is dying. She loved this car. Bought it new in '69. Wouldn't ever drive anything else. Took us to school in the damn thing." He trailed off for a moment, his face sad and nostalgic. "Whole fuckin' thing has been re-built, though. In damn good shape for a 40 year old car." He laughed. "My mom…she's not…not in there, anymore. But if she was, she'd like you. She'd like you drivin' her car."

V. looked at him, her eyes wide. He was serious. He wanted to give her his mother's Charger. "Jesus. Happy." She threw her arms around him. "Thank you."

He accepted her hug, picking her up off the cement floor and squeezing her. When he set her back down, he reached back into his inner cut pocket and came out with a key, which he handed to her.

V. shook her head, still not believing what was happening. "This is a gorgeous car," she said. "I can't believe…"

Happy smiled again. "You can drive standard, right?"

V. arched an eyebrow. "Of course."

"Good. I'll follow you back to Charming. Car's in good shape, but it hasn't been out in a while. Once you get back to the garage, you can have them look at it."

"I don't have much money," V. said. "But I have my cut from last night, and there should be more where that came from. Can I…"

Happy cut her off again. "No." He shook his head, then pulled her in to hug him again. "You're Sam Crow family now. Any way I can help you, I will." He pulled back from her, his hands on her shoulders. "That is all I'm gonna say about this, so you'd better be fuckin' listening."

Slowly, smiling, V. nodded. Looking at Happy's face, she felt something she was almost unable to identify. She though, bizarrely and painfully, of Devin, the brother she'd tried so hard to hard to take care of, to protect. Was this what it felt like to have a brother who protected you?

By the time V. pulled her new car into Teller-Morrow, Happy close behind her on his motorcycle, everyone was up and about. As soon as V. parked the car and got out, Juice and Half-Sack were on her, walking around it in admiration. "Holy Shit," Half-Sack whistled. "The goddamn General Lee."

"Did you steal it?" Juice asked, his eyes wide. "Shit."

V. laughed. "I didn't steal it," she said. She nodded towards Happy, who was getting off his bike. "Hap gave it to me. It's his mom's."

As Juice and Half-Sack continued to admire the car, popping open the hood for an internal inspection, Bobby appeared from inside the clubhouse. "Damn," he said. He turned to V. "Tell me you didn't steal this car."

V. laughed again. "Why do you all keep askin' me that? I didn't steal the fucking car!" She leaned against Happy for a moment. "It's Hap's mom's. Said I could drive it."

Happy shook his head. "No. Said you could have it. Papers are in the glove box. Already signed over."

Bobby's eyes widened. "Hell of a gift," he said. Then he smiled and nodded at V. "But that's good. You needed a ride. And this suits you."

"You gonna start wearing Daisy Dukes now?" Half-Sack asked, grinning.

V. grinned back, but smacked him upside the head. "Not a chance." When she looked at the car again, she was unable to hold back her smile.

Within thirty minutes, the car was up on the lift in the garage, a team of biker mechanics poking around to check it out. Watching them, V. was so enraptured with them and with the idea of having her own car that she didn't even notice Jax pulling in and walking towards her.

"Hap gave you the car?" Jax asked, nodding towards it.

V. turned towards him. "Yeah. How'd you know?"

"He asked me about it."

V. smiled and shook her head. _Asked your permission? _she thought. _Guess everybody answers to somebody. _"It's amazing," she said. "I don't even know what to say."

Jax smiled, looking between her and the Charger. "It's perfect for you," he said.

V. was quiet, hoping he wouldn't insist on talking about the previous evening. She hadn't seen either him or Chibs after they'd gone outside, deciding it was smarter to disappear to her room before things got any weirder. She'd noticed when he arrived that Jax bore no physical evidence of having been in a fight, though, and was taking that as a good sign.

Jax was quiet, too. Though he'd spent much of the night thinking about it, he still wasn't sure how to react to V., to what he'd seen the night before, or to what Chibs had said. "So," he finally said. "Now that you've got a way out of Charming, you gonna take off?"

V. looked incredulous. "No." She pursed her lips. "I owe the Club. If I can help you all—fighting or however else—I'm gonna be here to do that." The impatience in her voice was obvious. _Besides,_ she thought, _where the fuck else am I gonna go? At this point, you bunch are the closest thing to a family I've got._

Jax looked at her. The bruises from her fight were second-day grisly, black and purple and raised. Her lips were chapped. Her hair was pulled back messily, her jeans dirty and hanging off her hips. She didn't look like a woman men would fight over. She looked like an aging street urchin. Without thinking, he reached over and pushed a loose piece of hair from her face. He wanted to try to talk to her, or yell at her. He wanted to tell her in no uncertain terms that she belonged to him, that she couldn't give herself to anybody else. He knew, though, that it wouldn't help. If anything, his claim of ownership would send her to Chibs' bed—or Happy's?—that much faster. Jax was smart enough to recognize the truth in what Chibs had told him the night before—V. was searching for hurt, and it was more than likely that a man would be one of the places she'd look. Who more likely than one of the ones surrounding her?

As if she was reading his mind, V. turned to him and met his eyes. "You know I don't belong to you, right?"

Startled by her bluntness, Jax just nodded.

V. continued. "And you saw what happened to the last man who thought I was his." Her eyes were hard.

Jax snorted. "You threatening to kill me?"

V. shook her head, not finding it that funny. "No. I'm just sayin', I'm not the type who belongs to somebody. I'm not somebody's girl. And that's just as well, for everyone." She sighed, then continued. "I wasn't lyin' when I said I'm not what you need."

"And I wasn't lyin' when I said I don't care." Jax returned her hard stare with his. "You don't wanna be with me, I can't force you. But don't try to put it on me. Has nothin' to do with you not bein' what I need." His voice was angry now, though still low. "You don't think I'm what you need."

Slowly, V. nodded. "Maybe not," she finally said.

Jax's felt the anger rise in his throat. He clenched his fists. "You wanna be a whore, that's on you. You wanna find someone who will beat you up and treat you like shit, you shouldn't have to look too far. But you won't embarrass me in front of my Club again."

V. watched Jax as he walked away. _Won't I?_ she thought. She felt no animosity towards him now. He had every reason and every right to be furious at her, to call her names and threaten her. She was strangely glad he finally had. She thought of the disappointment clear in his face when he'd left her bedroom only two nights before. She'd much prefer his rage to that.


	14. Chapter 14

Once the Charger got the all clear from the mechanics, V. spent as much time as possible out in it and away from the garage and clubhouse. She thought of errands for herself, volunteered for anything anybody else needed to have done, and often just drove around for no reason. It was good to be on her own again, feeling free. It also motivated her to begin searching in earnest for a place of her own.

V. was pulling into the Teller-Morrow lot after looking at a basement apartment with a mold problem when she saw two police cars. She was barely out of her car when she recognized Ben's tall form standing with Chief Unser and Deputy Chief Hale. _Shit,_ she thought. _This can't be good. _Jax, Tig, Juice, and Chibs stood across from the police officers, their posture, as always when faced with law enforcement, contentious.

"Hello again Ms. Kramer," Deputy Chief Hale said as V. approached. "I believe you know Detective…"

V. cut him off. "I do." She nodded curtly. "Ben." She looked quickly at the men, trying to read the seriousness of the situation on their faces. None of them looked happy, but she didn't see any indication that someone was about to get arrested. She turned towards Unser.

"Something I can do for you, Chief?"

The old man cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Um, the Detective here has been in town looking into a missing person. I think he already talked to you about that. Asked us to tag along today."

V. didn't try to hide her smile. So the Sons had intimidated Ben enough that he brought local PD backup to come on the lot again? She looked up at Ben with a smirk. _Pussy. _"You have more questions, then?"

"Victoria," Ben said, taking a step towards her. "I didn't come with more questions." He sighed and reached for her hand. She frowned, but allowed him to take it. "I have something to tell you."

V. rolled her eyes. "That's very dramatic, Ben. Spit it out. What?"

Ben frowned, as if he was having trouble deciding what to say. "It's about your brother."

V.'s face tightened. "Yeah?" she tried to remain impassive. _What did that motherfucker do now? _Her mind boggled at the possibilities.

Ben stepped forward a bit more, as if about to hug her. "He's dead."

V. stepped back, pulling her hand from Ben's. _Dead? Devin was dead?_ She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. "How?" Her voice sounded small. Then, before Ben could answer, "Wait. Did you see the body? He's been "dead" before."

Ben nodded, clearly still wanting to move towards her, to touch her, but holding himself back. "This is for real. He was shot. During a robbery." Ben paused, aware of the reaction V. could have to the next thing he was going to say. "By the police."

V. was oddly quiet. Having expected an outburst, possibly violent, Ben was shocked. "Victoria?" he asked, searching her blank face for a reaction.

V. looked up. "OK," she said. "Anything else?"

"Anything else?" Ben was stunned. "Did you understand what I just told you?"

"You told me the cops killed Devin. I heard you."

Hale broke in. "You must be in shock." He reached for V.'s elbow. "Maybe you should sit down."

V. backed farther away. "I'm not in shock. I'm just not surprised." She snorted. "Besides, I'm used to him being dead." She turned back to Ben. "Do I have to do anything?"

Ben shook his head. "No. We…we tried to contact your mother."

V. nodded. "Find her?"

"Not yet."

"She's probably dead too."

"You could claim the body for burial…"

"No. Fuck him. Give him to science, donate his organs, throw him to the dogs, I don't fuckin' care." She shrugged her shoulders. "What about the other thing?" Her focus was completely on Ben.

"Didn't turn anything up." He moved towards V. again. "I'll be headed home tomorrow."

V. nodded. "See ya, then," she said, turning around to walk towards the clubhouse. Ben took one large step and was behind her, grabbing her elbow.

"Take a ride with me, Victoria. Let me buy you dinner. You shouldn't be alone."

Once again, V. shrugged out of his grip. She turned her eyes to where the Sons were still standing, watching her. "I'm not alone," she said with an almost imperceptible smile. "Go home, Ben." The men all watched her until she disappeared into the clubhouse.

After the cops left, the Sons all looked at each other, Juice and Tig watching to see how Jax and Chibs would react. They looked at each other, neither saying anything. Jax wanted to follow V. Everything he'd ever known about women told him he should follow V., hold her while she cried, comfort her. But nothing he knew about women had ever really applied to V., and she'd told him, over and over now, that she didn't want his comfort. Finally, he stomped back into the garage and returned to work.

Chibs, too, was tempted to go after V. For him, too, though, the temptation would be to attempt comfort, even knowing that wasn't what she wanted and that it would only make her angry. He hadn't counted on this new horror. What would it do to her? Increase her need to be hurt? Mediate it? Lighting a cigarette, he, too, walked back towards the garage.

Night had long since fallen before V. came out of her room. The clubhouse was deserted, the men having decided to find amusement elsewhere for the night. V. found herself oddly angry that there was nobody around, even while thinking she should be grateful not to have to answer questions or be the subject of sympathetic gestures. Though she'd had all afternoon and evening to sit and smoke and think about it, she still had no idea how she really felt about Devin's death.

Sighing, V. grabbed a beer and flopped down on the old sofa, TV remote in hand. The options were just the usual inanity, but the TV was better than silence. She stared at it, not really seeing what she was watching, still lost in her own head.

An hour or so later, the door opened and Happy walked in. He said hello, grabbed a beer, and sat down next to her. "Where is everybody?"

"Don't know. Scared 'em off, I guess." She attempted to smile.

He smiled back. "I was visiting my mom. Juice called. I'm sorry about your brother."

V. nodded, remembering standing in the hotel room, telling her brother and Leo's other men that Happy would be glad to kill them if she requested it. It seemed odd and far off now. Every time she tried to recall a memory of Devin, she came back to that night, to what a bastard he'd turned out to be. She wasn't sure if that made him being dead easier or harder.

As if reading her mind, Happy spoke again, his voice slow and gravelly. "It's OK to think he's a piece of shit even if he's dead."

V. smiled for real this time. "Thanks. I do." She paused, then asked, "is it weird that I almost wish I'd have killed him myself? At least then it would have meant something. Stupid fucker got killed in a goddamned robbery. By the cops."

Happy considered for a minute, then said, "no, I don't think that's all that weird."

They sat in companionable silence for quite a while, both looking at the TV. V. got up twice to refresh their beers. The second time, sitting back down, she sat close to Happy. Looking at her sad eyes, he put an arm around her and pulled her towards him. She rested her head against his chest, closing re eyes briefly and hoping the closeness would make some of the noise in her head go away.

Though being hugged to Happy's chest was better than sitting alone had been, it didn't have quite the calming effect V. was hoping for. Her eyes moved restlessly around the room, to the TV, the pictures on the walls, the beer bottle in front of her on the coffee table. Finally, her eyes focused closer, on Happy's denim-clad lap. She thought of the strong, steely thighs he must have under those jeans, the product of lots of long distance rides. Her eyes ran over his zipper, the benign bulge under it. She began to imagine what was there. Almost reflexively, she felt her core muscles tighten, wetness beginning between her legs. _Hmm… _she thought. _If anything will shut my brain up…_

Slowly, V. lowered her head, slipping it a bit at a time down Happy's chest. He was still, his eyes on the television. He wondered, at first, if she was falling asleep, but he felt her breathing grow a bit more rapid, not slow. Soon, her head was in his lap. With what seemed to her to be excruciating slowness, she nuzzled him through his pants, smiling when she felt the response.

Only a second later, V. felt Happy's hand in her hair. _Oh, this is going to be fun,_ she thought. Expecting him to pull her up to kiss her, to squeeze her breasts, to order her to strip for him, she smiled. When she saw his face, though, her smile faded.

"Stop." His voice was sharp.

She grinned. "Why?" Raising her eyebrows, she nodded towards his lap. "You seem to like it OK." She reached a finger out and ran it down the length of the now risen zipper of his jeans.

He grabbed her hand and threw it back into her own lap. "This is not happening," he said.

V. furrowed her brow, then laughed. "Why the hell not? You shy?" She leaned forward again, preparing to be kissed. She was surprised when he put his hands on her shoulders and instead of bringing her towards him, pushed her away.

"I'm serious, V. No."

V.'s mood began to change from amused and confused to pissed. "What the fuck? I know you want me. You've wanted to fuck me since the night you met me."

Happy shook his head. "You said you didn't belong to anybody that night. You lied."

V. rolled her eyes. "Is that all it is? I don't belong to anybody. Jax may be having a hard time figuring it out, but I'm not his Old Lady." Once again, she reached out, running her hand down Happy's chest.

He grabbed her hand again, more roughly this time, and threw it back at her. "I said knock it the fuck off." He didn't seem amused in the slightest.

"Jesus Christ. You guys…I don't get it. You act so fuckin' tough, but then you have to have a signed permission slip to get laid?" V.'s voice was rising, pissed and panicked and increasingly embarrassed. She wasn't used to being turned down.

"We're brothers," Happy said simply. "You don't fuck a brother's woman."

"I am not a brother's woman!" V. exploded. "Jesus Fucking Christ! How many times do I have to say that?"

Happy shook his head. "You've already got two members at each other's throats. You want to add me to that mix? Not fucking likely."

V. sighed. "Look, I'm not asking you for anything. I just thought it might be fun…" she trailed off, her eyes returning to the bulge in his lap. "And you think so, too."

Happy smirked. "Oh, I'm sure it would be. But I ain't gonna do it. The Club comes first. Always."

V. knew she should stop, go back to her room, and hide out until the incredible embarrassment caused by this whole interaction subsided. But she was never one for giving up. "Explain this to me, then, because I really don't fucking get it," she said. "You guys pass women around all the time. Most of the girls who come in here have been with at least three or four of you. Why am I so fucking special?"

Happy snorted. "Are you stupid?" he asked. "You're wishing you were a sweetbutt?" He looked at her. "You are Club family now. There's responsibility with that. You don't get to fuck everything up just because you had a bad fuckin' day." With that, he rose from the couch. "Nobody'd touch a Crow Eater looked like you anyway," he said, as he walked away. "You're too fuckin' skinny."

After Happy left, V. sat on the couch in shock and horror. She considered going out, finding someone else—anyone else—to satisfy her need to feel and not to think. _Probably couldn't get laid in this town if I tried,_ she thought. _Might as well have a big fuckin' sign on—property of Sam Crow. _She was angry, feeling trapped as well as stupid and unattractive. _What am I here?_ she wondered. _If_ _I refuse to be an Old Lady, what "part of the family" am I, the Maiden Aunt?_


	15. Chapter 15

**Warning: This chapter gets graphic and violent. **

"You need to get back to trainin'." Chibs had come into the Teller-Morrow office at the end of the workday, still in his mechanic's shirt. V. was just ending her day as well, straightening the desk for the following morning. "Got another fight comin' up."

V. smirked. "Think you got more to teach me?" she asked. She met his eyes with a challenging look he'd come to recognize. _Fuck me,_ her eyes said. _Throw me on the floor and fuck me right now._ He straightened in the doorway, trying to escape that gaze.

"Yeah," he said slowly. "I think I got a thing or two left to teach you. Meet me in the ring when you're done."

After Chibs left the doorway, V. could feel Gemma's eyes on her. Finally, she turned. "Something you need me to do before I leave?" she asked with feigned politeness.

Gemma shook her head, her lips pursed. She seemed resolved to let V. leave without saying anything, but changed her mind as soon as V. got up from her chair. "What the fuck are you doing?"

V feigned ignorance at Gemma's meaning. "Well, I was going to go change and then train."

"Very funny, smart ass. What are you doing with Chibs?" V. met Gemma's eyes. The older woman looked at her without blinking. "Don't fuck with my boys," she said. "You don't wanna be with Jax, that's your call, but don't think you're gonna do to any of them what you did to that cop. Sam Crow is a family. In the end, you're just a piece of ass."

V. didn't answer, just let the office door slam behind her.

That afternoon, V. worked as hard as she ever had in the ring. She made no advances on Chibs, didn't flirt with Half-Sack, but concentrated solely on pushing her exhausted body to its limits, making it hurt, making everything else go away. After a while, it was as if the men weren't there at all as she went through the routine of crunches, jumping rope, bag work, and shadow boxing. She barely noticed when the Prospect went to hit the shower, and wouldn't have been able to say for sure if Chibs was still there are not had he not been calling out corrections to her form every now and again.

From his seat on the picnic table, Chibs watched V. carefully. She had stripped down to her cut-off shorts and thin tank top, the shirt sticking to her sweaty skin. Her feet were bare, her hands clenched. Her face was a picture of murderous concentration. Though she was shadow boxing, swinging at open air, it was clear she was seeing someone in front of her as she threw punches. He could almost see the pain, surrounding her like aura.

Chibs barely acknowledged Happy when he sat down, just nodded, his eyes still on V. "She tried to get me to fuck her last night," Happy said, his voice low.

Chibs turned in surprise, both at what Happy had said and that he would say it at all. He was not generally known for his verbosity, and this was a bit of a bombshell. "And?" he asked, trying to force his voice to remain casual. He'd been a bit surprised not to find V. waiting when he returned to the clubhouse the previous night, knowing that she had to be looking for an outlet for whatever she was feeling about her brother's death. Turns out he had been right about the impulse, just wrong about the man she'd choose.

Hap shook his head. "Don't want any part of this shit," he said.

Chibs looked a bit astonished. "You turned her down?"

Happy nodded again. They both watched V. for a moment. "Bet she took that well," Chibs said, smiling in spite of himself. Then, his brow furrowed, he turned back to Happy. "Why you tellin' me?"

"She's gonna stay here, she needs to get this shit out of her system," Happy replied. "Otherwise, she bleeds all over Sam Crow." He paused, making sure Chibs understood him. "Won't just be about you and Jax." Happy got up then. "Good luck, brother," he said softly. Then, under his breath, as he walked away, "better you than me."

Chibs sat on the table a bit longer, his eyes still on V., but not really seeing her. He knew Happy was right, that the way things were going wasn't tenable. Something was going to have to change if V. was going to be able to stay and maintain her relationship with the Club. With everything that had already happened in the past months, they couldn't stand her bringing destruction down upon them as well. The trouble was, he didn't know how to stop it. While it was true that he wasn't in love with her like Jax was, V. had was in him now like a virus. He felt feverish, out of control, unable to stop thinking about her, wanting her, wanting to hurt her. Unlike Happy, he couldn't put the club first, couldn't resist the lure of her, even though he could see clearly the damage she could cause.

Later that evening, Chibs was sitting and the bar with Happy and Juice and Tig, drinking beer and talking. The men all looked up when they heard V. come down the hall, and each one did a double take when they saw her. The V. of the baggy jeans and tank tops to whom they'd recently gotten accustomed was gone, replaced by a heavily made-up (you could barely see her bruises) woman with long, loose hair, a short skirt, and a tight top barely covering her push-up bra. Her boots were replaced by heels. She was too thin—there was no way to hide that—but the ensemble made it clear that she still curved in all the right places.

V. barely glanced at them, headed towards the clubhouse door. Quickly, Chibs rose from his stool and caught her arm before she got there. "Where the hell are you going?"

She looked at him coolly. "Out."

"Out to where, a fuckin' street corner?" He kept his voice low, but she could hear the anger in it.

She smiled. "Maybe," she said. "Clearly I'm not allowed to have any fun in Charming, so I'll have to go elsewhere. Lodi, Pope, hell, there's no reason I can't drive to Oakland if that's where the action is."

Chibs tightened his grasp on her arm. "No," he said through gritted teeth. "You aren't going anywhere."

"And you're going to stop me?" she asked, still smiling, though not in a friendly way. When he didn't answer, she moved closer to him and went on, speaking loud enough for the men at the bar to hear her. "So do it, then. Stop me." Her eyes began to blaze. "Come on, badass." She sneered. "Or were you just gonna…talk?"

Hearing a chuckle from the bar, V. turned to the other men. "Don't know why you're laughing," she said. "The lot of you aren't any better. Act like you're so fuckin' hard with your big bad biker club, but really, you're afraid to make your own decisions. Might displease Daddy…" she rolled her eyes.

"That's enough," Chibs hissed, grabbing her other arm and forcing her back to face him. Over her head, he saw Tig rising, angry, from the bar. "Your mouth is gonna get you hurt."

V. rolled her eyes. She glared at Chibs. "You keep sayin' that," she spit. "Keep sayin' I'm gonna get hurt. Keep sayin' you've got what I need. Well, where is it? You think you can make me beg? Let's see it. Do it. Give me what I need." She was shaking now, full of rage, and hurt, and disappointment. There were tears in her eyes. The room was horribly quiet. "Otherwise," she said, more quietly now, jerking her wrists from his grip, "get the fuck out of my way."

Chibs said nothing, shocked momentarily into silence. It had been a long time since anybody—much less a skinny, pale, scarred woman—had the nerve to talk to him that way. Though V.'s words weren't the same, nor was her voice, nor did she look anything like Fiona, it was Fiona he heard all the same.

And then V. did use Fi's words. Turning to leave, she paused, her eyes narrowed at him. "You're not man enough."

It was as if all the sound sucked from the room came back in a roar at once. Chibs had been in hundreds of fights, inside the ring and outside it. He knew what it felt like to be pushed to the point of using your fists, even when you shouldn't, or when you were doing your best not to. Still, it was all he could do not to punch V.'s face. Instead, he reached out, seeing his hands more than feeling them, and pulled her back, throwing her against the wall. He leaned over her, suddenly huge in her vision. "Shut the fuck up." There was no game playing in his face, no challenge. He was good and truly pissed.

V. straightened herself, meeting his gaze. "Am I supposed to be scared now?" she asked, her voice low. She could feel his anger and relished it. Her chest heaved, her skin burned. "Fuck you." She turned, then, and headed again towards the door. This time, he let her go, his hands fallen to his sides. He stood, staring at the closed door, until he heard her car start in the parking lot and pull into the street.

"If you don't go after her, I will," Happy said. "She's gonna hurt herself."

In her car, V. sat stock still in the driver's seat. In front of her blank stare she saw a parade of hurt faces: Jax, then Ben, then Devin, then her mother. After her mother the faces got harder to recognize, blurring people whose faces she'd smashed in the ring with lovers she'd left while they were still sleeping—all of them hurt, all of them damaged, always at her hands. She shook with rage and fear and overwhelming sadness. She hadn't known it was possible to hate yourself this much.

As Chibs approached the car, he saw V. drop her head to the steering wheel. _Is she crying?_ He stepped gingerly forward and opened the door. She wasn't crying; her face was twisted with rage and pain, almost grotesque. "What?" she said, sighing.

"Get out of the car." He was surprised by the fierceness of his own voice. "You're not going anywhere tonight." He reached in and pulled her out by her wrist.

V. looked up at him with some surprise, but didn't argue or struggle. Both of them were stony faced and silent as he led her through the clubhouse by her wrist. Chibs saw his brothers' grins and grimaces, but tried to ignore them. V. didn't notice them at all.

Once they arrived in Chibs' room, he locked the door behind them. He said nothing to V., just undressed her roughly, jerking her short skirt from her body without unfastening it, then ripping her top as he pulled it over her head. Once she was down to her thong and push-up bra, he pushed her roughly back onto the bed. She watched his face, looking for signs of fear or loss of control, clues to anything that might diminish her respect for him. There was nothing.

"Lie still," he ordered. She thought he would undress then, but he didn't. Instead, he took his knife from the sheath at his waist. He raised the blade and ran it very lightly over the scar on his left cheek. "You and me, we know what it's like to be cut." His voice was nonchalant, sounding almost bored. He looked at the blade, running his thumb over it. "And what it's like to cut someone." He looked at her, raising his eyebrows slightly.

V. forced herself to remain still when the blade touched her skin, the cool wide side of it running against her temple, then over her lips. When he moved it away from her mouth she trembled, unable to help it. He smiled, then ran it down over her throat. He turned it over in his hand, so the blade faced her, and held it again the tops of her breasts. She tried desperately to hold her breath.

"Is this what you want?" he said quietly, leaning over her. "You want me to hold the blade to your throat while I fuck you?" She shivered slightly, feeling the tiniest increase in the pressure of the knife against her breasts. He continued. "You're so fuckin sure you want pain. How much pain can you take? Or is what you really want fear?" He picked the knife up, running it tip first down her scarred stomach, stopping below her belly button, just above where her panties began. "You don't think anything can scare you. You think after everything you've seen, you're immune." He smiled. "Girlie, you have no idea what's left to fear." He ran the blade further now, holding it against her, flat side pushing gently on her clitoris. She gasped, her chest heaving, wet and wanting more.

"Please." Her voice was small, she was barely sure she heard it herself. Her head was swimming, her eyes barely focused.

_Didn't take as much as I thought it would, _he thought, satisfied with himself. _Godddamn good thing. Don't know that I woulda had the patience._ "Please what?" he asked, his tone mocking. He moved the blade only slightly, just enough to be sure she knew it was there, against her. Enough to be sure that she knew all he'd have to do was turn his wrist a bit and push.

"Please fuck me." Her chest was heaving now. She was chewing on her lip, her eyes wide and clear. "Please Chibs."

"You begging? You think I got what you need now?" His words were bitter, his tone sarcastic. _Keep it control just a little longer, _he thought. _You're almost there._

She didn't hesitate. "Yeah," she said, "I'm begging."

That was all it took. He pulled the knife away, tossing it on the bedside table. She remained still, her eyes wide and on him, as he unbuckled his belt and pulled down his pants. He didn't undress, didn't kiss her, just pulled her thong to the side and pushed hard into her. The first time they'd been together, he'd hurried out of fear, out of the thought that one or both of them would change their mind. Tonight, he hurried because he couldn't hold back anymore. Weeks of tension, mediated only by the night he'd pushed her down to suck him off, poured out in each thrust.

"Jesus," she moaned. "Oh God!" She couldn't keep still, her hips bucking to meet his. He closed his hands over her wrists, holding the top of her body down while he drove into her. "Oh please don't stop!" From there she descended into babbled curses, interspersed over and over again with "please."

If he could have constructed a conscious thought, Chibs would have noticed how vocal she was, how different from the silent first time he'd been with her. As it was, he was concentrated completely on keeping his pace, forcing into her with one brutal thrust after another, trying desperately not to come until she was ready.

Knowing he was close, he leaned down to her ear. "If you don't stop being such a bitch," he said, "we won't do this again." He punctuated his words with thrusts. "I got no interest in you if you're gonna be a whore." She nodded, no longer able to see clearly, barely able to register his words. It felt like he was not just inside her, but all around her, enveloping her, and she was on fire.

Chibs' mouth on her ear sent new sparks through V.'s body as he spoke again. "Tell me," he said, thrusting even harder. "Is this what you need?"

She came then, screaming into his shoulder. "Yes."


	16. Chapter 16

**Pretty much this whole chapter is mature content. You were warned!**

Chibs had not expected to be in this position. He was leaning on one elbow on the side of his bed, smoking a cigarette, fully dressed but for his unfastened jeans. Next to him, V. was nearly naked and fast asleep. After catching his breath, he'd rolled over, expecting her to be ready for another go, and found her eyes closed, her breathing regular. _Never thought you'd go down after the first round, _he thought, smiling. True, he could wake her up, and in a bit he likely would, but for now, he was enjoying being able to look at her without the interference of any kind of armor, for either of them.

He didn't touch her, just ran his eyes slowly over her face. The bruises from the fight were half-healed, the makeup she'd concealed them with mostly rubbed away. He wondered idly if she was really 30, or if she might be shaving a few years off that number—there were shallow lines around her eyes and her relaxed mouth. She had a pretty face, though, bruises and lines or not.

_Damn shame she's gotten so skinny,_ he thought, moving his eyes slowly down her body. He thought of the difference in her between the first time he was with her and now. She'd been strong then, too, but now, seeing nothing but hard planes of muscle and bone, it was hard to remember her gorgeous curviness. Her stretched out arms looked to be nothing but skin pulled tight over knotted ropes. He could count her ribs. When she sighed, his attention turned to her breasts, still covered by her lacy bra. _At least there's still some curve there, _he though, admiring her cleavage. He'd not looked that closely at her scarred stomach before, knowing from experience how it felt to have one's scars examined. Now, though, he noticed the slight dip in her flat belly where the scar bisected her. It was grotesque; not a small, polite, fading scar, but a raised, knotted, puckered trail from sternum to panty line. Reflexively, he touched his own scarred cheek.

For a long time, Chibs sat and smoked and watched V. sleep. He tried to keep his mind centered on her body, how it had felt, and what else he'd like to do to it in the future. He specifically avoided thinking about what them finally consummating what they'd been dancing around for weeks meant, or what the consequences would be. The guys had all seen him take her to his room—there would be no hiding it this time, no "last night never happened."

_If I'm gonna pay the price anyway, might as well make sure it's worth it._ He looked up and down her body again, relishing the thought that she'd let him do whatever he wanted, that she'd likely do whatever he asked. Smiling, he leaned over, whispering into her ear. "Wake up, princess. Not done with you yet."

V. opened her eyes quickly, looking confused and embarrassed. "I'm sorry," she said, swallowing in that way people do when they're afraid they've been drooling. "I guess I fell asleep."

He smiled. "That you did. Had a nice little nap. Hope it was restful." He raised his eyebrows. "You're gonna need it."

V. shivered slightly, both excited by his words and slightly chilly, realizing she was in her underwear and he was still completely clothed. Tentatively, she reached out to him. Before her fingers reached the edge of his cut, her eyes, wide and questioning, met his. For a moment, Chibs was confused. _What is she doing?_ He realized, then, that she was looking for permission. She was remembering his telling her to take her hands off him on the bike and asking if it was OK to touch him now. Her reticence turned him on much more than he'd have expected. This strong, independent, stubborn woman was seeking his consent. _Jesus, that's hot._ "Go for it, sweetheart," he said gruffly.

V. smiled, sitting up and moving towards him. He leaned back and pulled her onto his lap. She worked the cut off his shoulders, then put her hands under his shirt. After he pulled away from her and pulled it over his head, she turned to tracing his tattoos with her fingertips. He was amazed at this gentleness, though he knew it wouldn't last. He closed his eyes and leaned back, happy to let her explore his body. She pushed gently on his chest and he complied, lying back on the bed with her straddling his waist. She leaned down, tracing the tats now with her tongue, then sliding it across his chest, taking first one nipple and then the other into her mouth. He reached up and pulled her head up to kiss her, and when her lips met his, her mouth was compliant, not wrestling his for control, but succumbing, her lips parting easily for his tongue. The kiss was long and sweet, no bruising gnashing together of lips, no teeth. It was exquisite and he hated to let it stop.

"Let me see those lovely tits," Chibs murmured, reaching behind V. and unhooking her bra. When it fell, he pushed her back slightly to get a better view. He breathed his appreciation, weighing them in his cupped hands. He pulled his thumbs over her nipples and she moaned, arching her back to push them towards his hands. "You like that?" he asked, repeating the gesture. She nodded. "Tell me," he instructed. "Tell me what you like and I might do it again." Before she could respond, he dipped his head down, taking one nipple into this mouth while his thumb continued its path over the other one. He sucked on the piercing, first gently, then harder.

"I like that," she said, breathless, leaning back on her hands to make sure he had full access to her chest. She was grinding into him now, seeking as much contact and friction as she could find.

_God, so do I,_ he thought, moving to her other nipple. Weight loss or no, she still had perfect tits. Her grinding on his denim-clad lap was verging on uncomfortable, though. "Stand up," he ordered, pushing her off his lap. She stood. He reached out, pulling her scanty underwear down her legs, and she stepped out of them. "Turn around," he ordered. "I want to look at you."

Clearly uncomfortable being stared at, V. turned slowly around. "You're too skinny," he said. "You have to eat. Do you hear me?" She nodded, looking oddly concerned, almost scared. "Good," he continued. "Now, about earlier. You don't ever talk to me like that. You don't talk to any of us like that. Do you get that?" She nodded again, the same look of worry on her face. _She's like a child being disciplined_, he thought. _Amazing. _Like her seeking permission to touch him earlier, this acquiescence to his lecture thrilled him. While he was accustomed to being in charge, as it were, in his sexual relationships, there was a particular thrill in this level of control, and in dominating V.

"Lay down on your stomach," he ordered, standing and motioning towards the bed. She did as he said, her face in the pillow, her back and ass exposed. Before slipping out of his jeans, Chibs removed his belt with a quick hissing sound. Watching V. while he did it, he noticed her brief, reflexive shiver. _She knows what's coming,_ he thought with a self-satisfied smirk. He ran one hand down her back, over her ass, and down to the backs of her knees. Her flesh was hot to the touch, excited. He leaned down, his voice low next to her ear. "Hold on to the headboard," he instructed. She complied, her shoulder muscles tensing, her hips arched slightly to bring her ass into the air. _She wants it,_ he mused. He didn't swing with all his might, but neither did he hold too much back. The belt snapped quickly through the air and laid a red stripe across her white ass.

V. moaned into the pillow, her body jerking. The sound was mixed pleasure and pain, low and guttural and real. Chibs didn't wait for her to recover, flicking the belt again and putting another red stripe across the first. She bucked, grinding herself into the bed. He lashed her a final time then, aiming for and hitting the sensitive white skin at the bottom of her ass. She screamed into the pillow.

He didn't wait any longer. He dropped the belt on the floor and got onto the bed with her, pulling her up to her knees. She was panting, trembling in pain and anticipation. He shoved a hand between her legs, spreading them and feeling the soaking evidence of her arousal. He leaned forward, steadying himself with one hand wrapped in her hair. "Tell me what you want," he hissed. He nudged himself against her, refusing to enter until she spoke. "Tell me."

"I want you to fuck me," she gasped. "I want you to fuck me until I break in half." He grinned. _Mighty glad to do that, _he thought. He steadied himself on his knees behind her, then pushed into her. He started slowly, in part way and paused, curious to see how she'd react. Though he'd expected her to push back against him, she waited, still trembling. He could see the tension in her back and shoulders, her fight against her own body. Finally, she spoke. "More," she said softly. "Please, more."

As much as anything else, it was the soft tremble of her voice that got to him. He'd never heard her speak like that. Even earlier, when she'd begged him to fuck her, there had been some element of a demand in it. This sounded different, and the sound, along with the vision of her arched back, her hands grasping the bed frame, her ass sporting the angry red marks his belt had made, was all too much. He lost control, pushing into her as hard as he could, his rhythm frenetic. She buried her face in his pillow and yelled. Her muffled screams made the whole scene only that much hotter. Knowing he'd not last long, he slipped a hand underneath her, encouraging her to buck against it. He could hear his own babbling, but wasn't sure what he was saying. From her, there were only noises, throaty, lusting, pained. He felt her start to spasm around him, knew from the sudden silence and bucking hips that she'd come. He was surprised, though, when, only a few thrusts later, she did it again. This time it was too much and he went over with her.


	17. Chapter 17

The sun was streaming through the blinds when Chibs awoke. He shut his eyes against it out of habit, then realized he wasn't actually hung over with a headache, so he didn't mind so much. Opening one eye warily, he saw that he wasn't alone. He hadn't been sure V. would stay, but she had.

He laid back, his mind replaying the previous night's activities. Though they'd gotten started early, he and V. had been up very late. After the first two rounds, they'd both drifted off, but he'd woken up later to her lips around his cock, starting it all over again. Even after he'd been completely spent and not sure he'd be able to get it up again, he'd used his hands on her, coaxing out more moans, curses, and screams. It had gone on and on, until finally they'd fallen asleep for good. He vaguely remembered holding her against his chest and feeling a sense of fulfillment the likes of which he hadn't known in years.

He looked over at her now. She was on her stomach, her face turned away from him. Smiling, he lowered the sheet that covered her and admired his handiwork—the belt marks across her ass and the marks his mouth and teeth had made on her shoulders. She woke as he watched, stretching and then turning towards him, wincing very slightly as her bruised ass rubbed against the bed.

"Mornin' princess," he said, smirking at her. Her hair was all over the place, loose and tangled.

"Hi." Her voice was confused, as if she wasn't totally sure how she'd come to wake up in his bed. Realizing her nudity, she reached for the sheet. He caught her hand.

"I've seen it already," he said. He reached out with one finger and ran it over her lips, then down her throat and between her breasts. "And I'm gonna again." He watched her face, not sure how she'd reaction to his declaration. It could be that now that she'd gotten what she needed, she was done.

She nodded. He was again charged by the feeling that she'd do whatever he asked, agree with whatever he said. If it weren't clearly already so late, he'd try out his newfound power by demanding a morning blowjob. She licked her dry lips. _Well, late already, what's a few more minutes…_Just as Chibs started to move towards her, there was a loud knock at the door.

"Chibs! You gotta get up! It's almost noon!" Half-Sack's voice was loud, but apologetic.

"Fuck," Chibs muttered. Then, louder," Alright, Prospect! Out in a minute!"

"Noon?" V. said, incredulous. "Shit."

Chibs smiled grimly. Standing, he felt her eyes on him while he searched for his clothes. When he turned to pull his pants on, she was sitting up, her eyes unembarrassed, running over his body, taking in his morning erection. Her eyes, he noted, still looked hungry. He felt a surge of excitement and pleasure. Last night, as exhausting as it had been, had left him wanting more, too.

Watching Chibs from the bed, V. thought about asking him how they were going to handle the fall-out that was almost certainly headed their way. Thinking about what she'd say, though, she realized that the repercussions were all his to deal with. She owed Jax nothing, and had made no promises she hadn't kept. If Jax was going to take issue, it was going to be with Chibs. _Why would he take that risk?_ she wondered, watching him pull on his shirt and cut. _He has to know I'm not worth it._

Before leaving the room, Chibs leaned over and kissed her forehead. Though he knew they should probably discuss what had happened, or at the very least talk about how they were going to handle it, he knew she wouldn't want to. This morning, he didn't either. Whatever hell was waiting for him out there, it was his to face. No need for her to be involved.

"Eat some breakfast," he said, approaching the door. "Want you in the ring later."

V. was surprised to find herself obeying. She wasn't due in the office today, so after returning to her room (lucky not to run into anyone in the hall, since the previous night's shirt was ripped from shoulder to waist) and showering, she settled at the clubhouse bar with a book and a cup of coffee. Across from her sat a plate of Bobby's muffins, which she found herself slowly nibbling as she read and drank. By the time she finished her coffee, she'd eaten two of them.

"Hungry?" Bobby came up behind her as she was starting her third muffin.

"Yeah, I guess so," V. answered, blushing slightly. "Hope it's OK."

"That's what they're there for." He wasn't smiling.

V. sighed. She knew his grim face had to be about Chibs and Jax and whatever was happening in the garage. "Should I ask?"

"No."

"OK." She returned her gaze to her book, pretending to read.

Bobby stalked about, re-arranging bottles, trying to figure out what he wanted to say to V. "Why do you have to cause so much trouble?" he finally blurted out.

V. laughed. He glared at her, but she kept laughing. "I'm sorry," she said, still giggling. "I just don't think I've heard that since I was in girls' school."

"Very fuckin' funny," Bobby responded. "You gotta know, bitches that get between brothers don't last a real long time."

Having stopped laughing, V. nodded. "I know." She was serious now. "But Jax needs somebody way different than me. An Old Lady. A mother for that kid. Someone he can protect and take care of. That was never gonna be me."

_She's got a point there,_ Bobby thought. The longer he knew V., the clearer it was that she wasn't the type to wait by the phone, rocking the baby and keeping the home fires burning. But that didn't excuse the problems she'd caused. "You can't just decide one brother doesn't work for you and hop on another one," he said.

V. raised her eyebrow. "Doesn't seem all that uncommon," she countered. "Crow Eaters do it."

Bobby rolled his eyes. "We finish with them and pass them on," he said simply. "They don't finish with us."

V. smiled again, suppressing a giggle. "Sorry to fuck up your double standard."

"You still think this is funny?" Bobby glared, getting angrier now. "You got brothers at each other's throats. Nobody gonna think that's funny."

V. sobered again. "Look Bobby," she said. "I don't want to hurt the Club. I don't want Jax and Chibs to fight. That sucks and I'm sorry about it. But I can't be with Jax, and he's gonna have to just man up and deal with that. Whatever else I do is my business."

Bobby shook his head. She was an infuriating woman.

V. was surprised to hear herself continue, given the air of finality she'd intended her previous words to convey. "I'm a shitty girlfriend. Always have been. And Jax is just fucking cocky enough to think he could change that. This way is better."

"And Chibs? What about him?" Bobby glanced at her levelly, realizing that laughter or not, she was taking him seriously and was worried about the situation.

"Chibs knows what I am. Minute he tries to make me into anything else, I'm done with it."

"Then what? On to Happy? Tig? Where do you stop it?"

V. smirked. "Why, you want to hold a place in line?"

At this, Bobby couldn't help but return her smile. But it was only for an instant, then he was serious again. Seeing his expression, V. continued. "I am not planning to fuck my way through the Club, if that's what you're asking. Though I don't see why it would be such a big goddamn deal if I did."

"That's not how it works," Gemma's voice broke in behind V., and she turned to see Gemma approaching the bar. "You don't go from being the Vice President's Old Lady to being just another sweetbutt." She looked pissed as hell, so V. figured she must already have heard about her night with Chibs. "Even if you are a whore," Gemma continued, sitting down next to V. on a barstool.

Knowing the Queen as he did, Bobby decided it was a damn good time to return to the garage and headed quickly out of the clubhouse, leaving V. and Gemma alone. V. took a deep breath, then turned to face Gemma. "Go ahead," she said. "Get it out. I'm a whore, I'm trash, your son can do better than me anyway—those are probably all good starting places."

"Don't get mouthy with me," Gemma answered, her smile fake and plastered on. "You ought to be begging me. I say the word," she snapped her fingers for effect, "and you don't have a job or a place to live anymore."

"So do it." V.'s voice was flat. "I been on my own before. I can deal."

"Think you're a badass, huh? Not afraid of anything?" Gemma rolled her eyes. "You're too old for that shit. You know you need the Club." She didn't wait for a response, just turned and left.

Chibs walked into the garage already looking for Jax. He groaned internally when he saw that Jax was already there, and not working. Instead, he was leaning against a workbench, smoking a cigarette, clearly waiting. _Fuck, _he thought_, someone already talked._ He knew it wouldn't matter if they hadn't, though. Coming into the garage hours late and straining to walk straight, it was clear where he'd been. And one look at him would tell Jax with whom.

"You're late," Clay grumbled as he walked past.

"Sorry about that," he answered, trying to keep anything that could be read as cockiness out of his voice.

Jax walked towards him, cigarette clenched between his teeth. From across the garage, Chibs could already see his balled up fists. "Were you with her?" When he reached Chibs, Jax's voice was quiet, fierce.

"Aye." Chibs pushed his sunglasses back and met Jax's eyes. He thought of apologizing, but realized before the words left his mouth that he wasn't sorry. He was sorry, of course, that Jax was angry and hurt, but he didn't regret being with V. He knew, too, that regardless of the outcome of this interaction with Jax, he would be with her again.

Jax's face tensed even further. Chibs saw the first swing coming and moved out of the way. "You sure you want to do this?" he asked.

"Yeah." Jax swung again, this time connecting to Chibs' cheek. Chibs didn't respond, just jerked back in response to the punch and kept his eyes on Jax.

"You can hit me if you want, Jackie. But don't expect me to fight back." Though it went against everything he'd ever known, Chibs held his fists down.

Jax stared at him, unable to hit a man who wouldn't swing back, but equally unable to walk away. He was seething, furious, his face red and his lips pursed into a line. "Fuck you," he finally spit, stomping past Chibs and back to the bay where he worked.

After Jax stomped away, Clay approached. _Shit,_ Chibs thought. _It just keeps getting worse._

"That gonna keep going?" he asked, motioning towards where Jax had stomped out.

"Don't know," Chibs answered, hoping honesty would be the best policy in this case.

"Normally, I don't give a shit who gets their dick wet where," Clay said. "But if that girl is gonna cause problems for the Club, she's gone. Don't care how much money she makes us."

Chibs waited quietly for the president to continue, not sure if he was expecting a response. Clay continued. "I need to go in there right now and run her skinny ass out of town, I will."

"No." Jax was returning now, walking again across the garage with this long, swaggering stride. He looked hard at Chibs. "We'll deal with our shit. Not gonna be a problem for the club. V.'s earning. Let her stay for now."

Chibs nodded in agreement. Clay shrugged. Neither man believed for a second that V.'s earning for the club had anything to do with Jax's defense of her. Still, Clay didn't really want to kick her out—she was making money and had the possibility to make much more, and the office had never run so smoothly. He kept his eyes on Jax and Chibs as he stepped away. Chibs looks as if he'd like to say something, but didn't. Jax just shook his head, still clearly extremely angry, and returned to work.


	18. Chapter 18

The days that followed were tense. V. returned to her pattern of avoiding the clubhouse and the club members to the greatest extent possible, spending most of her non-work time driving around and looking at possible places to live. Finally, she found a small apartment at the top of an old house that suited her and wasn't picky about references or rental history, since she was paying in cash. Jax and Chibs ignored each other, sometimes pointedly not speaking. Even Gemma kept quiet, saying not a word to V. during the several times a day she stopped in at the office.

Chibs and V. avoided one another as well. Neither was sure which of them was doing the avoiding. V. was slightly embarrassed, worried that Chibs had seen too much of what she really was and wouldn't want her anymore. Chibs was determined to remain reserved and withholding until V. came to him. Both of them felt pressure building, the air around them seeming hotter when they inevitably came in contact with each other. More than once, Chibs had stepped close to V. in the ring, or V. had brushed against Chibs, and they had both been surprised not to find themselves tangled on the ground. Both of them fantasized; both of them wanted.

It was Friday and church was in session. The meeting was short and terse, everyone knowing that a fight could erupt between Jax and Chibs anytime. Though Clay hated to bring her up, V. was a topic of conversation. The gun runs to Oregon had been stopped for several weeks due to a supply problem, but needed to be resumed. The group had to decide whether to go back to the previous method of caravanning the illegal cargo, or send V. again.

"Heat's been off a long time," Bobby mused. "We'd probably be fine to take them ourselves." He frowned for a moment, thinking about the most diplomatic way to say what needed to be said. "Shape V.'s in lately, not sure it's something we want her hand in."

"V. wouldn't give us up." Usually quiet in the meetings, Opie's voice was a surprise. "Somethin' went down, she'd take it."

"Lot of trust to be puttin' in a bitch," Tig said. "Her loyalty ain't exactly been proved."

The already thick air in the room seemed to hold still. "I got no worries about V.'s loyalty to the club," Jax said, his voice bitter and tight. "Shit with me and V. is just shit with me and V. She loves the club. Thinks she owes us."

Clay nodded, then turned back to Bobby. "What do you say, brother?"

"It's not that I think she'd rat or somethin' like that," Bobby said. "She's just…she's got weird shit goin' on in her head. Could get herself hurt. Or somebody else."

Clay looked at Chibs. "You think her head is that fucked up?"

Chibs had hoped this conversation could conclude without his input being asked. He nodded slowly. "She's not all in," he said, finally. "Could be dangerous. Probably just to herself."

Clay sighed. "OK. We do the run this time, then. Figure out a way to cover it with charity. All in favor?"

The proposal was unanimous. Clay continued. "What about fights?" Again he looked at Chibs.

"V. and the Prospect both fight tomorrow night," Chibs answered.

"They good to go?" Tig asked. "V. paid off so big last time, we can bet higher this time if we find someone to take the odds."

Chibs thought for a moment about V.'s last fight. He'd know then that the temptation to give up and allow herself to be beaten would be strong, and he had no idea if it had yet passed. He knew too, though, that trying to describe that feeling to his club brothers would be a waste of breath. They wouldn't understand. "You saw her," he said. "She's good to go. Prospect too." He'd just have to make sure V. was in a better state of mind before this fight.

V. purposely stayed away from the clubhouse until long after she knew church would be over. When she pulled into the lot, the after-party had begun inside. As she approached the door, she wondered if it would be better to sit at the bar for a few drinks, or retire to her room to drink alone. She'd been trying to keep out of everybody's line of fire, which was probably the wisest move, but she was also getting bored. _Just a drink or two probably won't hurt,_ she thought as she pushed open the door.

The scene V. walked in on was one that had become typical to her. The room was scattered with men in cuts, both SAMCRO members and various nomads, and scantily dressed women. They were at the bar, on the couches, around the pool table. V. tried to keep herself from looking for Chibs, and then for Jax, but found both quickly. Chibs was playing pool with Happy, a cigarette between his lips. Jax was on the plaid sofa, talking with Opie and a couple of girls. V. recognized one of them as the Crow Eater she'd had a run in with before. _She ought to be happy, he's on the market again_, V. thought.

V. hopped on a bar stool and nodded to Half-Sack, who was behind the bar. "Hook a thirsty girl up?" she asked.

Sack smiled, blushing slightly like he always did around V. He opened a bottle of beer for her, then poured her a shot of whiskey. She took the shot quickly and neatly, then held the glass back out for a refill.

Chibs was aware the minute V. entered the room. Though he wouldn't have admitted it, he'd been waiting for her to show up. He'd already decided that he'd waited long enough for her to come to him. Remembering her trepidation about touching him, she might not think that was against whatever rules there were to this thing they were doing. He'd have to go to her. It was going to need to be subtler this time, though. Dragging her to his room in front of half the Club had been a stupid thing to do once, it might well be an intolerable thing to do twice.

"Your shot bro," Happy was growing tired of waiting for Chibs, who was watching V. at the bar rather than concentrating on their game. "Goddammit, pay attention!"

"Sorry," Chibs muttered, moving around the table to take his shot. Attempting to concentrate on the game, he didn't notice the woman coming in the door.

"Where is the whore who's been fucking my husband?" The woman's voice was loud, silencing much of the room.

From the bar, V. looked up to see a tall, thin woman with long curly hair. She was wearing tight jeans and a fitted t-shirt, and her eyes were wild. Something about her seemed familiar, but V. couldn't place having seen her before. "Shit," she said to Half-Sack, her voice low. "Whose Old Lady is that?"

Half-Sack's eyes widened. "That's Wendy," he whispered.

"Wendy?" It took V. a moment to place the name. "Wendy…Jax's ex?"

Half-Sack nodded. The woman was walking across the room, peering suspiciously at the Crow Eaters. The closer she got, the clearer it became that she was extremely high. On the couch, Jax was starting to rise and move towards her.

"Which one of you is V.?" she demanded. "You bitch! You scared of me?"

"Wendy," Jax began, moving towards his ex-wife.

"No!" she yelled. "This isn't about you. I'm here to see your whore."

Slowly, a smile formed on V.'s lips. Seeing what she had to be thinking, Half-Sack tried to get her to stay on her barstool, but it was too late. She was up in a flash, face to face with Wendy in two long strides. "You looking for me?" she asked, the smile still on her face.

Wendy looked her up and down. "You?" Her voice was incredulous. She sneered. "Shit. I thought I might actually have something to worry about. Still, you gotta learn your lesson." Wendy swung haphazardly. V. caught her fist, holding it tightly and keeping her off balance.

"That wouldn't be very smart, you druggie bitch." V.'s voice was calm and cold.

Wendy snorted. "Me druggie bitch? How the fuck do you think I knew your name? Minute I get back into town, I got dealers tellin' me Jax has a new woman, bitch who likes her high as much as I do." She shook her head. "I gotta go to rehab, and you move in on my man and my little boy? I don't fuckin' think so."

V. smiled again. Only two paces away, Jax seemed frozen, unable to stop whatever was going to happen between the two women. The rest of the room was oddly silent, watching. "Do I look high?" V. asked. "No. Do I look like I'm anywhere near your man or your kid? No. So if I were you, I'd question where I'm getting my information. No, listen to me real careful. I'm gonna give you a pass, cuz I'm in kinda deep shit around here already. It's one time deal, though. You swing at me again, I will take you fucking down." V. turned to return to the bar.

"You think I'm scared of you?" Wendy shrieked after her.

V. turned, still smiling. "No," she said. "But you should be."

Finally, Jax found his feet and voice. He strode quickly to Wendy's side, grabbing her arm and leading her out of the clubhouse.

No sooner had V. resettled on her barstool than Clay, Bobby, Chibs, and Tig approached her. They all looked serious. _Now fucking what?_ V. thought irritably, drinking down the shot Half-Sack put in front of her. _How the fuck else was I supposed to handle that?_

Clay didn't mince his words. "You got a drug problem?"

V. laughed. "Do I look like I have a fucking drug problem? You ever seen me high?" She looked around at the other men. "Any of you ever seen me high?"

Chibs thought about V.'s huge pupils and rapid speech on the night he'd found her in the ring, and about her not correcting him when he called her a crank whore. He said nothing, but shook his head. Tig and Bobby both shook their heads as well.

"That's what I thought." V. tried to contain her anger, but it was clear. She took a deep breath, then addressed Clay. "Anything I can do for the club, you say the word. I'm happy to help. But I'm way to fuckin' old to be parented. Who I fuck, how much I drink, what drugs I do—none of that is really any of your business."

The group was silent and tense for a moment, everyone curious to hear how Clay would react to V.'s pronouncement. Finally, the president smiled. "Fair enough." He turned and walked away from the bar.

Tig and Bobby followed Clay away, returning to their conversations and card games. Chibs remained, signaling to Half-Sack for a drink. The prospect refilled V.'s glass as well and handed both of them fresh beers. Then, knowing all too well what happened when his sponsor was trying to get with a woman and he didn't make himself scarce, he disappeared, leaving Chibs and V. alone at the bar.

"You tellin' the truth?" Chibs' voice was low.

V. didn't ask what he meant. She looked at him with her clear green eyes, still pissed. "What difference does it make?"

Chibs scowled. "Makes a goddamn difference," he said. He grabbed first her right arm, looking at it closely, then her left. "You puttin' fuckin' needles in your arms?"

V. remained calm and angry. "You see needle marks?" She glared at him. Her skin burned where his fingers had been.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then Chibs began again, his voice still low and terse. "I catch you usin', you're gonna get a lot more than a little ass warmin'. And it won't end with you comin' and screamin' my name, either."

V. nodded, feeling the now-familiar rush of heat his threats sent through her body. Chibs watched her closely, seeing the heat reach her eyes. V. licked her suddenly dry lips. "You gonna scare me straight, then?" she asked.

Chibs smirked. "If I have to," he said. He could see her tensing, getting excited. She moved incrementally towards him. He reached out towards her, glancing quickly around the room first to check for prying eyes. Seeing none, he ran a quick finger up the inner thigh of her jeans. "Go to your room and wait," he said. He smiled. "And don't start without me."


	19. Chapter 19

In her room, V. paced, threw things, and cursed. Try as she might, she couldn't calm down. Though she understood that Chibs' keeping her waiting for him was part of their game, part of his proving he was in charge, she wished he'd found another way to make that point tonight. The way she was feeling, he might find her spontaneously combusted by the time he showed up. To make things worse, she couldn't put a finger on why she was agitated. The confrontation with Wendy should have left her amused, irritated at worst, but instead she was livid.

"Goddammit!" V. hissed, taking another slug from the Jack Daniels bottle in her left hand, then dragging on the cigarette in her right. _Fuck pre-fight rules._ She kicked irritably at the desk in the corner of the room, then cursed again when it hurt her toe. Finally, she stripped off her boots and jeans and began doing alternating sets of push-ups and crunches in the middle of the floor. She'd likely have plenty of time to take a shower before Chibs arrived, she reasoned, so it wouldn't much matter if she got sweaty and gross.

V. stopped counting her sets long before she heard the knock on her door. After a point, there was no reason to keep counting the endless crunches and push-ups, but it seemed wise to keep doing them until she felt a little more in control of her temper, which hadn't yet happened. _Why the fuck is Chibs knocking?_ she wondered. _And why is he here so quickly?_ _Oh well. Hopefully he doesn't consider calisthenics "starting without him."_ "Come on in," she called, continuing to raise and lower her body on her arms.

When Jax opened the door, he was taken aback to see V. not sitting on her bed, smoking, the way he'd imagined, but instead be faced with her rising and falling ass, clad only in skimpy panties, in the middle of the room. Surprising himself even further, he felt the heat creep to his cheeks. "Um," he stumbled, "V…"

V. stopped mid push-up and flipped herself over, sitting in the middle of the floor, breathing hard. Her tank top was sticking to her sweaty breasts, her chest rising and falling quickly. "Jax." She made no attempt to move or grab for her clothes. His eyes were fixed on her, not sad as they had been coming in, but clear, bright, predatory blue, wanting. She felt herself shiver a bit under that stare.

Jax closed the door behind him, walking fully into the room and taking a seat on the desk chair. "I want to apologize," he said. "For Wendy." When V. didn't respond, he continued. "Thank you for not clocking her. Had to be tempting."

Jax smiled, but V. didn't smile back. The nearly uncontrollable rage she'd felt earlier had returned. She was nearly shaking. "Keep that bitch away from me," she said, her voice unsteady. "Next time, I'll kill her."

Jax frowned, confused by V.'s vehemence. He could tell from her face she wasn't kidding, but wasn't sure what had set her off. "What the fuck?" he asked. "I'm sorry she insulted you, but Jesus, it wasn't that bad."

V. shook her head. It wasn't until the words came out of her mouth that she even understood her own anger. "That druggie whore," she said, her voice still shaking. "She could have killed her baby…killed Abel." She shook her head, her eyes now far away. "She did it herself. She could have protected him and she didn't. She hurt him herself." She looked down into her lap, clearly trying to contain herself. When she lifted her head her eyes were full of tears and they were beginning to track down her cheeks. "But she still gets him. She still gets to have her baby, alive. He's OK. He's here. He's alive and she's his mother." The last words were choked into sobs. Jax was reminded of the night V. killed Leo, finding her on the floor with their bloody clothes in her hands, saying that killing him hadn't helped. She didn't look angry anymore, just small and sad and lost, like she had then. Her shoulders were shaking, her arms now wound around her pulled up knees.

Jax fell to his knees in front of her on the floor and wrapped his arms around her. She didn't resist, but fell into his embrace, crying uncontrollably. "I want my baby back, Jax," she choked.

"Shhh," he soothed, rubbing his big hand down her back, now clammy with cooled sweat. "Shhh…I know." He buried his face in her hair, rocking her slowly back and forth. Her crying didn't cease. He could feel her tears soaking the front of his shirt. He sighed and pulled her closer. As her tears didn't seem to be slowing, he moved from his knees to sit next to her, his back against the bed, and pulled her into his lap, her head still against his chest. Again, she complied, wrapping her arms around his neck and making no attempt to quell the sobs that were clearly out of her control.

He held her a long time, trying all the while to keep his mind away from the memories having her so close again brought up. It was impossible, though—the weight of her body against his, the smell of her hair and skin, even her sweat stirred him. He'd been hard since he pulled her onto his lap, and if he wasn't mistaken, even while crying, she was beginning to move against his hardness. Jax took a breath, steeling himself and trying his best to ignore the intrusions of both his mind and his body.

Finally, V. looked up. Her face was tear-stained and red, only inches from his. The moment between kissing her and not kissing her was so brief as to almost not exist at all. The kiss was gentle, soft. His lips moved from her mouth to her cheeks, kissing away the leftover tears, then fluttering over her swollen eyes. He held her head in his hands, moving his lips once again to hers, still gentle, but seeking. She consented, returning his kiss, then tipping her head back, allowing him to move his lips down her neck. He knew the spot in the hollow of her throat that she loved to feel his mouth, and she moaned when he found it.

Jax knew, even as he ran his hands over her breasts, through her hair, down her bare legs, that he should stop, take a breath. He knew that even if he could comfort her tonight, it wouldn't change things between them, and they'd both end up hating themselves for it. Sighing, he finally pulled away, lifting her as he stood and depositing her gently on her bed. "I'm sorry," he said softly, his hand still stroking her hair. "I'm so sorry."

She looked up at him, already embarrassed at her outburst. "It's OK," she said, tightening her jaw. "I'll be fine. Sorry about crying on you." As if it were a sliding door, with her heart on the other side, her face closed. Knowing attempting to talk further about it would be fruitless, Jax nodded and left the room.

Only barely outside V.'s door, Jax ran into Chibs. Knowing where his brother was headed, he felt the familiar anger and jealousy rise in his throat, but he thought of V., the way she'd clung to him and cried. He remembered what it had been like after Abel was born, when he'd believe his son wouldn't live—he could imagine V.'s pain. Maybe Chibs could help her. God knows he wasn't. He looked away as Chibs passed, then returned to the clubhouse's main room to get as drunk as possible.

Before he opened the door to V.'s room, Chibs thought for a second about how he might find her. Would she be naked and waiting for him? If he hadn't been mistaken earlier, she'd been jacked up from her argument with Wendy, and making her wait for him had probably only exacerbated it—he was hoping to find her wound tight and ready to beg. What he saw when he opened the door was the farthest thing from what he was hoping for. She was sitting on her bed, arms curled around her knees, sobbing.

"Baby," he went to her immediately, ready to wrap his arms around her. "What's wrong?"

She moved away from his grasp. "Nothing," she said, sniffing hard and attempting to stop her crying. "I'm fine."

"Bullshit." He sat down, not reaching for her again. "Was Jax in here? Did he do something?"

V. shook her head. "No, he didn't do anything."

"But he was in here?"

V. nodded. Chibs looked her up and down, noticing her lack of clothes and sweat. He felt his blood pressure begin to rise. "You fucked him?"

V. rolled her eyes. "Yeah," she sneered through her tears. "It was so good, I wept."

Chibs reached out and grabbed her wrist. "You think that's fuckin' funny? I told you already, I got no use for you if you're gonna be a whore." He knew, even as he said it, that she hadn't been having sex with Jax. His mind reeled, really more concerned about whatever had her crying than about what she'd been doing with Jax, but not sure she'd appreciate him pushing that line of questioning. He couldn't both punish and comfort her—he just hoped the one he was choosing was the one she needed most.

V. was holding her tears back now, her jaw quivering only slightly. "I didn't sleep with Jax," she said. She wanted to continue, to tell Chibs why she'd been upset, that Jax had begun to comfort her but had ultimately rejected her. He knew, she thought, what it felt like to lose a child. He had a little girl somewhere in Ireland who didn't know him. But that wasn't the role she'd put him in, or the one he'd chosen to play. Better to keep it to that. "So," she continued, forcing herself to replace her weepy face with a snide smile, "you got a use for me?"

_That's what she wants, then,_ Chibs thought, then sneered back. "Yeah," he said. "I got a use for you. Gotta make sure you get any ideas you have about letting yourself get hit out now, before you get in the ring tomorrow." He reached forward suddenly, grabbing her jaw in his hand and forcing her to meet his steely gaze. "You need to be hurt, you get that from me. Anybody else, you do the hurting. You got that?"

Feeling the now-familiar rush of adrenaline his rough voice and hand sparked in her, V. nodded her head. She didn't break eye contact, just spoke softly. "Hurt me."


	20. Chapter 20

OK, this chapter was tough to write, and I'm not sure I'm happy with it, but here it is. I'm a bit stuck on this story in general right now, so your comments are very much appreciated!

"Hurt me."

The words were not a request, but a challenge. V. half-smiled, half-sneered, her eyes clearing as she held Chibs' gaze. Sitting on her unmade bed, wearing only her sweaty tank top and underwear, she didn't look like much of a threat. Chibs knew better than to underestimate her, though—he remembered what she'd been like in the ring. As he'd suspected earlier, watching her with Wendy, tonight would not be about her succumbing easily to him, submitting without a fight, doing everything he said and then raising her hips to be punished under his belt. At least not at first. Tonight he would have to take her down.

The moment he reached towards her she responded, her breathing already faster. She didn't jump off the bed, but moved to one side to avoid his hand and stuck out one foot, wrapping it quickly around the back of his knee. He lost his balance temporarily, grabbing the bed frame to right himself before striking at her again. She backed up further, her eyes glued to his, looking for hints to his next motion, just the way she had in the ring. Watching the rise and fall of her chest, he was reminded of the day he sparred with her, the intense eroticism of her movements, the way he'd felt as if they'd been fucking. How he'd wished that day that here'd been no audience, no pretense of trying to teach her to protect her weak spots, no fight rules. Tonight, there were none of those things. Tonight, he could take her down any way he wanted.

He lunged towards her again, catching her this time by the hair. He pulled her towards him, though she pushed at his chest to stay farther away. Once she was close enough, he let go of her hair and grabbed her wrists, tightening his grip so she was forced against him. They struggled for several minutes, him trying to hold her and her struggling to be released. Finally, he got the upper hand. Smiling, he began to walk backwards, towards the door to her bathroom, dragging her along. She struggled, her feet pushing against the floor, her shoulder against him, but his grip was strong. Once they were in the bathroom, he held her against the hard side of the shower with his body weight, letting go with one hand for long enough to reach in and turn the handle. Then he shoved her, hard, onto the floor of the shower.

V. looked up at Chibs, the water streaming over her. One knee was skinned where it had hit the tile floor. She was incredulous, pissed, and intensely turned on.

"Take a fuckin' shower," he ordered. "You stink."

Chibs didn't like drugs. He liked his drink, and didn't mind the occasional joint, but he'd never been much on the rest of that shit. Unlike the majority of his brothers, he didn't even like to be with the Crow Eaters who used. He'd conveniently put the night he'd seen V. high out of his mind, written it off as a one-time thing, but after hearing Wendy call her out tonight, he couldn't ignore it. He had to look.

While V. was in the shower, Chibs searched her room. He wasn't subtle, overturning drawers and pulling the mattress off the bed. He went through the pockets of whatever clothes he could find. He didn't find as much as he'd feared, but found way more than he'd hoped. In a few minutes, he had piled four baggies on the bare box springs, one with the residue of white powder, three with different colored pills. Next to these, he tossed another baggie, this one holding three joints, and five liquor bottles, all partially empty.

V. came out of the bathroom nude, still wet, and toweling her long, tangled hair. She took in the scene: Chibs slung against her bed frame, smoking, her stash piled next to him. The room--always messy--in shambles, the mattress on the floor. She didn't say anything, just looked closely at his face, waiting for his reaction. For a few long seconds, he didn't speak either. His face was closed, angry.

"What the fuck did I tell you about this shit?" There was neither humor nor seduction in his tone. She just stared at him, saying nothing. He scooped up two of the bags of pills. "What the fuck is this for?" He threw them at her. She didn't move, just let them bounce off her bare thigh. He shook his head, his face full of disgust.

"What difference does it make?" V asked, echoing her earlier question. "I fight, I fuck, you're getting whatever you want from me, aren't you? Why do you care?" She sounded not insolent, but really curious. She walked towards the torn up bed, leaving the bags of pills where they lay on the floor. As she got close to where Chibs sat, she began to undulate slightly, swaying her hair and her hips to music only she could hear. Her face changed from earnest to taunting. She pushed her body against Chibs', her tits leaving wet marks on his chest. When he didn't respond, she leaned forward, whispering in his ear, "What _do_ you want from me?"

He rose quickly, flipping her onto the box spring on her back. As she lay there, he picked up the other bag of pills and the bag of white powder and threw them on the floor. "I want you to leave this shit alone," he growled. He pushed the bottles off the bed too, luckily landing them on the mattress.

V. didn't move or respond. He watched her, she watched him watching her. She squirmed uncomfortably under his stare. He lit a cigarette. "Hold still." She tried to still herself, her eyes not leaving his face. After taking several long drags, he slowly, intentionally, lowered his hand. He held the burning tip of the cigarette just above trail of water droplets between her breasts, watching as they evaporated under the heat. Then he lowered it further, stubbing it out against her skin. He watched her face as she grimaced, but didn't cry out. When he took it away, an angry red burn had formed under it. She licked her lips, trying to remain still, willing her hips to stay fixed against the hard box spring.

When Chibs lit a second cigarette, V. shivered visibly. He smiled, running one finger down her still-damp torso, over her breast, then stomach, then down her hip. He held the cigarette to her lips, allowing her to drag on it, before extinguishing it, too, this time against the soft flesh of her inner thigh. "Fuck!" she hissed, throwing her legs open in response to the sizzling pain. Chibs chuckled.

"Don't move," he ordered, keeping his eyes fixed on her, noticing the tension in her stomach, how she was holding herself down to keep her body from seeking his touch. She was gripping the sides of the box springs, her knuckles pale. Chibs lifted his foot to unlace his boot, stepping squarely on her fingers, then pressing down as he unlaced it.

"My hand," she gasped, not making any attempt to draw it away, or move at all. "The fight…" He didn't pull away, continuing to grind her fingers into the hard edge of the box spring until his boot was fully unlaced. When he removed it, she didn't move her hand.

"Doesn't fuckin' matter," he muttered. "You won't go in there to win anyway. Might as well break all your fingers."

"No, I will." Her face was tense. He saw for the first time distrust. She was less sure about what he would do next, now. It might not actually be fear, but it was something. He shrugged noncommittally. As he raised his other foot, he saw her steel herself, waiting for his boot to smash her fingers again. He placed it delicately next to her hand, unlaced it, and took it off.

Looking down at V., Chibs was struck by how much he really wanted to cause her pain. At first, it had been about giving her what he knew she needed. Now, it was more. He was worried about her, of course, about her drugs and her destructive tendencies, but he was also fed up with her. He was sick of wondering what was going on in her head, tired of how clear she made it that he was nothing to her beyond a way to bring on destruction. She was coming between him and his Club, and much as it may have been his own fault, he resented her for that. Realizing that he wanted to hurt her made him even angrier—he'd never been the type of man to hurt a woman. Why did this one bring out all the bad in him?

For a moment, he thought he'd stop undressing, turn around, and leave. As always, it seemed the smartest thing to do. If he'd been able to leave her wanting, though, he'd never have started this game. And she was wanting now. Her hard nipples jutted out from her breasts, held taunt by her still-tight grip on the box springs. Her legs were splayed open, the cigarette burn inside her thigh clear. Her face was anxious, waiting for his next move. She chewed on her bottom lip.

He took off his cut, setting the desk chair upright and then hanging it on the back with exaggerated care. She watched him undress, but he didn't look at her. "Get up," he ordered, once his clothes were off. "Get on your knees."

She complied, rising to her knees in front of him. She moved her face closer to his, wetting her chewed lips, clearly wanting to be kissed. He ignored her. "Not like that," he said, sounding exasperated. "Turn around." Her face reddened, embarrassed at having misunderstood his instructions, as well as having been denied the kiss. She turned around quickly, still on her knees.

He pushed her down, holding the top of her body against the bed with one hand, then pulled her ass higher into the air with other. As he entered her, he continued to push her face and torso against the box spring, forcing her into it harder with each deep thrust. He was normally a talker in bed, relishing telling a woman how great she felt, what he was going to do to her. Now he was silent, hating himself, and her, and how this was happening, and knowing anything he could say would make the whole thing only that much more terrible. She was silent too, the room's only noise coming from his body hitting her body, and her body hitting the hard box spring.

V. surprised herself when she realized she was crying. After all her tears earlier, she wouldn't have thought it was possible. It wasn't the pain—she liked the pain, understood the pain. There was something else happening tonight, though. She felt a shift in Chibs, felt him giving up on her. Thought she wouldn't have expected she'd care, it tore her up. Somehow, he'd become one more person she'd let down.

When V. pulled away, Chibs didn't struggle to regain his control. He let her pull away, then turn to face him. He wasn't expecting the tears running down her flushed face, but was even more floored when she spoke. "Please," she said, her voice small. "Please don't."


	21. Chapter 21

V. woke up in pain all over, with a particular throb in the fingers of her left hand. For a moment, she thought the fight must already have happened. As she remembered the events of the night before, she rolled over, wincing slightly, expecting to see Chibs next to her. Though she never would have admitted it, seeing she was alone in bed made her stomach hurt.

When she'd pulled away from Chibs in tears, he'd stared at her for several moments, unsure what to do next. She'd stared back, attempting to regain control of herself. Slowly, he'd reached towards her, gentle this time, pulling her against his chest. Hating herself for her weakness, she curled up against him, aware of how similar the position was to that she'd taken with Jax earlier. Chibs was stiff, unsure how to hold her, or if attempts to comfort her would be rebuffed. After a few minutes, V. controlled her tears and sat up.

Chibs reached out again, tracing her tear-stained face, then running his finger down over the cigarette burn on her chest. She shivered. "You want me to leave?" His voice was gruff. He was confused, not sure what had set her off, or what she wanted. Seeing her crying, his desire to hurt her faded.

V. wanted to cry again. She wanted to tell him to stay, to tell him that leaving her alone tonight would be the worst thing he could do to her, to tell him to cut her, burn her, beat her, do anything he wanted to her, but please, please don't leave. Instead, she shook her head. "No," she said, the tears still evident in her speech. "Stay."

He nodded. He felt silly, sitting on her box springs, naked, his erection still obvious. It was an oddly adolescent situation, ridiculous for a man in his 40s to be in, and even more ridiculous to still be unsure what to do next. Seeing his discomfort, and wanting more than anything to undo the last few minutes, right from the point she'd started crying and things had gotten so dramatic, V. took the easiest way out she could. She slipped easily to her knees on the floor.

In front of him on the floor, V. looked up at Chibs. He noticed there was a bruise forming on her cheek, probably where he'd been shoving her face against the box spring. She met his eyes, then lowered her gaze to his cock, making her intentions clear, but looking at him again, seeking permission. He felt that thrill rush through him again and smiled in spite of himself.

When Chibs awoke, he was with V. on the mattress on the floor. His body was wrapped protectively around hers, his arm dead asleep under her side. _What a fucked up night,_ he thought, the previous night's events running through his mind like a cinema. Looking up, he saw V.'s pills scattered on the floor around them, at least one bag having been torn when they finally landed on the mattress together. It had ended up a marathon again, with each round making both of them more insatiable. He'd honestly not been aware his body was still capable of that kind of stamina. He felt it this morning, though, all over.

Looking down at her sleeping face, he was overcome by a ridiculous tenderness. She was fast asleep, motionless, peaceful. The thought that had come to him sometime in the night, the thought he'd quickly pushed out of his mind, returned. _I'm falling in love with her. _He knew, whether he let himself think it or not, that it was true. He could tell himself it was about the sex, which was amazing, or the challenge, which was even more so. He could pretend it was about proving—to her or to himself—that he could be what she needed. But none of those things would have made him stay last night. None of them were why he'd held on to her so tightly while she slept. _I'm falling in love with her,_ he thought again. _And she can't ever know. _An expert in the practice, he extricated himself from around her, dressed quickly, and left the room.

Just as the previous fight day had been, V. found the day to be long and boring. She avoided Chibs, who seemed also to be avoiding her. She tried not to think about it. She prowled around the clubhouse, tried to do some work in the office, snuck back to her room to drink from her hidden bottles, and was generally irritated by everyone and everything. Finally, Half-Sack and Juice talked her into sitting on the sofa and playing a video game with them. It wasn't bad, but the hours were still ticking by much slower than she'd have liked.

When it was close to time to leave for the fight, Chibs appeared at the Clubhouse. "You ready to go?" he asked, not looking at V.

She wasn't sure what the right answer was. She remembered her last fight, him telling her that they'd be talking about whose bike she road on. When she hesitated, he scowled. "Suppose you wanna take your car?" he asked. "Gimme the keys."

V. stood, pulling her bag from the table and handing the keys to Chibs. She didn't like him like this. The meanness and bossiness she could deal with, even relish, but the detached coldness concerned her. Had he decided, she wondered, that she wasn't worth the trouble after all? The short ride in the car didn't ease her mind, with him not saying a word and gripping the steering wheel like he wanted to choke it.

Even once they'd arrived, Chibs was quiet and seemed distracted. He stayed by V.'s side, not having any bets to make since everyone now knew he was V.'s trainer, but said nothing. "Can you wrap my hands?" she finally asked, knowing she could do it herself, but desperate for some connection with him. He looked at her oddly, but nodded, taking the tape from her outstretched fingers.

As he lifted her left hand, he examined the bruised and swollen fingers he'd crushed with his boot the night before. Without thinking, he brought them to his lips. Realizing what he'd done, he quickly pulled them away and began to wrap. "This gonna be a problem?" he asked.

"Nah, just like having two fights in a day," she said, trying to smile. His behavior just kept getting more and more odd. "So, Coach, got any pre-fight wisdom for me?" She could hear the strain in her own voice, the failed attempt at keeping things light.

He looked up and met her eyes for the first time that day. He looked at her a long time before he spoke, her now-wrapped hand still in his. "Don't stop fightin'," he said, finally. There was no harshness in his words, none of the commanding tone he typically took when training her. "You know you're better than these bitches," he nodded towards the ring. "Don't let 'em hit you."

V. nodded. Now that he was looking at her, she was unable to tear her gaze away. Impulsively, she leaned up and kissed him. He was briefly shocked, but responded almost immediately, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her against him, feeling again like sheltering her from the crowded room. The kiss was long and hard, and she was breathless when he finally pulled away.

Climbing into the ring, V. felt much more secure than she had before her last fight. She was afraid, still, that once it started she'd have the same problem defending herself she'd had before, but she felt oddly at ease for now. Like what she was about to do came naturally. Her opponent looked tougher than the last time around—larger, a bit older, with a mean smirk on her face. _Good, _V. thought. _Won't have to be afraid I'll damage her._

When the whistle blew, V. came out swinging. She barely blocked, focusing almost completely on throwing punches. For the first two rounds, it seemed that V. and her opponent might be well matched. They were both doing damage, and neither of them seemed to be feeling it much. In the third and fourth rounds, V. gained a slight upper hand, landing her opponent on her ass a couple of times. The girl was strong, though, and got back up.

In between the fourth and fifth rounds, V. turned to Chibs at the edge of the ring. "What the fuck?" she asked, slightly breathless. She took the towel Chibs offered her and wiped blood and sweat from her face. "Bitch isn't goin' down."

Chibs shook his head. "You're tryin' not to hurt her," he said. "Swingin' a lot, landin' a lot of punches, but not full force."

V. furrowed her brow. _Why wouldn't I be swinging full force?_ she thought, indignantly. She knew it was true, though. Through the whole fight, though she had been focused on throwing lots of punches, she'd had a niggling worry about hurting her opponent. It was a completely new feeling for her in the ring, and she didn't like it. She nodded, looking at Chibs as she handed the towel back to him. He smiled, his scarred cheeks catching the fluorescent light. "Finish 'er off," he instructed. "Then we'll go get drunk."

V. re-entered the ring, telling herself repeatedly that it was OK to hit as hard as she could. She wouldn't begrudge this woman punching with her full strength, and with the way V.'s face felt, she likely had been. Why not give her the same treatment?

With V.'s first punch of the fifth round, the fight took a distinct turn. Less than a minute later, V. was standing above her prone opponent. V.'s face was bloody, having taken a hard right hook to the lip, and her left hand hung to her side, clearly hurting. The other woman, though, had taken the worst of it. She rose, slowly, after the fight was called, but she looked dizzy and her left eye was swollen shut.

Chibs watched V.'s face as she left the ring. She looked undeniably scared, looking back several times at her opponent. "She's fine," Chibs said, pulling V. towards him and beginning to unwrap her hand. "Let me see this." Her fingers were much more swollen than they had been before the fight, and stiff enough that he'd noticed she was hitting only on the right in the last round. "They hurt?"

She shrugged. "They'll be fine."

"Not what I asked."

"Yeah, they hurt." She smiled. "That was kinda the point, wasn't it?"

He smiled back. "Aye."

Half-Sack's fight went nearly so well as V's. After a round of congratulations, V. and Chibs headed towards the car, intending to head back to the Clubhouse where the party was probably already started. There were still fights going on inside; the parking lot was mostly deserted. Suddenly, Chibs grabbed V.'s uninjured hand, pulling her around the side of the building and flattening her against the wall, kissing and nibbling at her neck. She laughed, then gasped as she felt his hand begging entrance at the waistband of her shorts.

"You gonna fuck me up against this wall?" she asked, her voice low and full of laughter.

"No," he said, laughter in his voice as well. He kissed her swollen lips, tasting blood. Once he had her shorts unfastened, he pushed them down her legs. She reached for his belt, but he pushed her hands away. From the glow of a streetlight, she saw him smiling. He fell to his knees on the pavement in front of her, pulling her underwear down with him. As she watched, he pushed her thighs apart, then buried his face between her legs.

"Christ," she breathed, her voice still low. "Jesus Christ." His tongue was amazing, not skirting around but focused immediately and directly where he knew it would do the most good. She wrapped her good hand in his hair, steadying herself against the wall with the injured one. He continued his rapid tempo, wrapping one arm around her legs to keep her pushed against his face. He was relentless, not allowing her to back away from him when it felt like she was going to explode.

"Jesus! Fuck! Chibs!" her volume was still low, but the control had gone out of her voice. She arched her back, throwing her head back against the wall and not even noticing the bump. He grabbed her hips with both hands, increasing the pressure of his mouth on her, waiting for her orgasm. It came only moments later, her thighs squeezing in slightly and touching his unshaven cheeks, her hand pulling his unruly hair.

When the last wave had subsided, she slumped against the wall, spent. The tension of the day and of the fight had all left her body, and she felt only a pleasant hum in her limbs. Chibs rose, pulling her underwear and shorts up with him in a gesture that felt almost painfully personal. He kissed her again, then, holding her body between himself and the wall. The kiss was ferocious, consuming. When it was over, he looked at her with hungry eyes. "Come on," he said. "Let's go to the party."


	22. Chapter 22

_So tell me, y'all—are you Team Jax or Team Chibs?_

-0-

Tossing her backpack on the floor, V. turned slowly around to inspect her new place. It was small, with just one big room, a tiny kitchen, and a small bathroom. It had a large window in the front, though, overlooking a quiet Charming street, and a fire escape out the kitchen door. The moldings and floors look old, made of heavy wood, though the paint was peeling on the walls. Best of all, the last tenant had left some furniture—a queen sized mattress on the floor, a small table with two chairs, and a dresser. V. smiled. It had been a long time since she'd had a place of her own.

Though she hadn't made a habit, in these past months, of thinking very far beyond the next day, looking around the apartment V. couldn't help but wonder about the future. Would she stay here? Would she stay in Charming? Her current situation with the club was lucrative, for them and for her, but she knew it wasn't secure. Both Jax and Chibs had been distant over the past few days, avoiding her when it was possible and silent when it wasn't. Half-Sack had told her Jax was watching when she kissed Chibs before her fight, so she wasn't surprised at his avoidance. With Chibs, she had no idea where she stood—one minute he was on his knees in front of her in an alley, the next he was gone.

_I want them to accept me,_ she thought, stunned at the realization. _Not just Jax or Chibs, but the whole bunch of them—Clay and the guys and even Gemma._ She thought of Happy, handing her the keys to his mother's car and telling her she was Sam Crow family. _I want that to be true. I want them to be my family._ She wasn't sure what to do with this new information. She knew she was on the bad side of the Club as a whole, even if she was earning them money, and it was really too late to do anything about that. It would have been best, she knew now, not to have become involved with any of the guys. _But that never would have happened_, she thought. In truth, she found them just as irresistible as they found her—more so, maybe. These men with their greasy clothes and calloused hands, their cuts and guns, their smells of cigarettes and whiskey and motor oil, their cursing and drinking and fighting—she'd desired them since she met them. Not just desired Jax, with whom she'd began, or Chibs, who seemed to be slowly be pulling her out of the darkest place she'd ever been, but desired all of them, desired their very pack itself.

V. sat down heavily on the bare mattress, feeling suddenly tired under the weight of her thoughts. _I want them to protect me._ She felt her eyes fill. _Nobody has ever protected me, and I want them to protect me._ Though she was alone, she was filled with humiliation as she felt the tears run down her face. Protecting her was all Jax had wanted to do, and she'd run away from it. Now it was what she wanted? She threw herself down, banging her head against the mattress. _What the hell is wrong with me?_

V. woke up to darkness and a pounding at her door. She shook her head, groggy, and opened it.

Jax stood there, his helmet and riding glasses in his hand. His face looked drawn and tired. "Hey," V. said. "Come on in."

Jax strode in, shoving the door shut behind him. He glanced around the room. "Nice." He looked at V. "Were you asleep?"

She smiled, nodding. He smiled back. "Good. You're sleeping now."

"Some." She met his eyes. She was less sure, now, of her earlier longing to be protected, be part of the family. She felt like she was being checked up on, and, as usual, it ruffled her feathers. "Why are you here, Jax?"

Jax sighed. "I need to talk to you." He sat down on one of the chairs. Suddenly they looked small, incongruent. He pulled a fifth of vodka out of his sweatshirt pocket.

"I don't have glasses," V said, sitting down on the other chair.

Jax smiled, unscrewed the bottle's cap, and took a healthy slug, then passed it to her. "Who the fuck needs glasses?"

V. took a swallow, then handed it back, keeping her eyes on Jax, waiting for him to speak. "I talked to Chibs," he said, taking another drink. He looked at V. with calm eyes. "He told me about the drugs."

V. was surprised, both that Chibs and Jax had spoken at all, and that Chibs had, for lack of a better term, told her on. She felt oddly betrayed. She tried to keep her voice even. "So?"

"Don't get defensive." He passed her the bottle again. "How bad is it? You got a problem?"

V. shook her head. "No." She frowned. "Chibs found some pills, little bit of coke. It's not a big deal."

"You get your shit in Charming? From the Nords?"

V. shook her head again. "I'm not fuckin' stupid, Jax. It's from Oakland." She took another drink, her temper beginning to rise. She didn't like feeling cornered. "So that's what you needed to check on? Make sure nobody was dealin' on Sam Crow's turf? I would have told you if they were."

Jax rolled his eyes and shook his head. "No, that's not what I needed to check on. What I needed to check on is you. What are you doin'? Fuckin' drugs…" he trailed off. "Cryin' on me one minute, kissin' Chibs in front of a room full of people the next…where is all this goin'?" His face wasn't so much angry as exhausted, tired of her shit on top of all the other shit he had to deal with. And tired of himself not being able to let it go.

V. didn't answer, unsure as to whether he was finished, and not sure what she could say anyway. The things he was accusing her of were true, and she had no explanation for them. Jax continued. "I don't even have time to go into all that with you now, though." He took a deep breath. "We got another problem." As they passed the bottle back and forth, Jax explained, briefly, some of the Club's prior issues with ATF, and how their least favorite ATF agent seemed to be back in town, sniffing around. "She's goin' after women connected to the Club," he said. "Done it before, and it ended up pretty bad. She shut LuAnn down, brought a girl called Cherry in on some out-of-state shit and we had to get her out of the country…so I'm tellin' you, she's probably gonna seek you out."

V. nodded, taking in what Jax had said, then shrugged, making a faux confused face. "I dunno anything about the Club's business," she said sweetly. "I just work in the office and have a fight every now and again, ma'am."

Jax snorted. "Good thing she doesn't actually have to believe you." He turned serious again. "Anything she can find on you, she'll use." He raised an eyebrow in question.

V. nodded. "The shit Juice dug up is all she's gonna find. Juvenile stuff, lots of arrests, no convictions as an adult."

"Not just criminal stuff. Anything. The drugs are a bigger deal because of this. You get that?"

V. nodded again. "I cleared that shit out after Chibs…" she trailed off, not sure what to say. Jax's face darkened. "After Chibs got mad about it," she finished, stupidly. "There's nothing to hide there." Jax's face remained tense. "What about Wendy?" V. asked.

"What about her?"

"ATF bitch gonna get to her? She's usin', could make a bad decision."

Jax shook his head. "Wendy doesn't know shit." He sighed. "She's a pain in the ass, but she wouldn't talk even if she did."

"She's still around, though?"

Jax nodded. "Can't see Abel—she signed away her parental rights when he was born. But she's tryin'." He looked at V. Her face was blank, betraying nothing of how she was feeling, but he hadn't forgotten. He remembered her anguish after Wendy confronted her. "I'm really sorry she upset you."

"My own fault. Shouldn't have let it get to me." She didn't meet his eyes, looking around the bare room for a distraction, anything to keep from having to re-live the embarrassing and needy crying.

"No," he said, reaching out and placing his and over hers on the table. The bottle, he noticed, was drained. "I…when I thought Abel wouldn't make it, it was the worst thing I've ever been through. And what happened to you was so much worse than that…"

V. pulled her hand away. This was verging on pity, now, which was the last thing in the world she wanted. "Anything else I need to know about this bitch Stahl?" she asked. She stood up, trying to indicate that Jax should leave. Jax rose too, but didn't walk towards the door.

"No. You can handle her." He grinned. "Kinda makes me worry for her, actually."

V. forced a grin in return. She thought, briefly, about what a bad idea it was, but the words were already out of her mouth before she could decide not to ask. "Do you want to stay?" She hadn't realized it, but she really didn't want to be alone this first night in her new place.

Jax was taken aback. While it's true that the possibility of such an invitation had crossed his mind, he hadn't expected it and hadn't even thought to hope for it once he'd actually arrived. "Do you want me to stay?"

She shrugged. She did want him to stay. As much as his protectionism pissed her off, and as much as his confessions of love made her feel inadequate, she felt better when Jax was around. "Sure."

Slowly, he shook his head. His face turned dark and angry. "You're incredible," he said. "I know you're fucking Chibs."

V. nodded. "I never claimed not to be."

"And you think I'm gonna take sloppy seconds?" His voice was cold.

It was as if she couldn't stop. Knowing she could be humiliating herself made it all the more enticing. She moved closer to him, running her fingers lightly over the patches on his cut. "I think you want to stay," she said. "I think you're tired, and you're stressed, and you're pissed off, and you'd like nothing better than to throw me on the floor put all that pain on me." She felt his heart rate increase under her palm.

What she was saying was true. He was tired, and stressed, and pissed off, and he knew from experience that throwing her on the floor and pounding into her, feeling her teeth and her nails against his skin, exhausting himself, would make it go away. But then it would be done and all of that tiredness and stress and anger would be back, and he'd hate himself a little bit, too, for having been with a woman who had made it clear that he was not her first choice. _Turn around and leave,_ he told himself. _Right now._

V. smiled, watching his face and making a pretty good guess as to what was going on in his brain. "I'm not trying to fuck with you head," she said, moving again closer, so her breath was against his neck. "I'm asking you to stay because I want you." She lifted her head slightly, speaking again with her lips nearly against his. "It doesn't have to be a big deal."

It was a big deal; they both knew it. Staying would be giving in to her, admitting defeat. But once her lips were on his, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, her body pressed against him, he'd already lost. He was still thinking about her all the time. He woke up at night with her in his head, saw her face when he tried to be with other women. And now she was here, rubbing against him, in her bare, sad apartment. She asked him to stay. There was no way he could leave.


	23. Chapter 23

_So, I've been bitten by another OC. A friend of mine and I are collaborating on her and decided to work her into this story as well. Tig fans should be happy! Can't wait to hear what you think!_

-0-

Waking to the sound of a motorcycle outside the window, V. thought Jax was leaving. Turning, she saw his head still on the mattress. She rose quickly, going to the window with the sinking fear the bike she'd heard was Chibs'. _Fuck, _she thought. _This is gonna be bad._ Looking out, her heart sank when she saw a man in a Sam Crow cut under the streetlight. When the man took off his helmet, though, her dread became confusion. _Tig?_

V. continued to watch from the window as Tig stood in the parking lot, smoking. _What the fuck is he doing here? _She had the sudden and completely irrational fear that he'd come to kill her, then shook that idea of her head. Remembering him cornering her in the office when she'd first started working for SAMCRO she had another fear of why he'd come. _He's going to be seriously disappointed to find Jax here, _she thought, rolling her eyes. He didn't make a move to come into the building, though, just waited in the parking lot. A moment later, a small woman emerged from the building and approached Tig. V. didn't recognize her as anybody she'd seen at the Clubhouse. She had long, dark hair and barely came up to Tig's shoulder. When she reached him she looked up at him with an expression that, even from her window, V. knew was adoring. He shoved a helmet in her direction, turning his back on her and climbing back on his bike. She climbed on behind him, clinging to his back and looking very much like a child, and they drove away.

Shaking her head, V. padded back toward the bed. Jax remained fast asleep. _What are you doing here, Jax?_ she thought. _We both know it only makes things worse. _She smiled vaguely, still glad he was there, though she knew she shouldn't be, and laid down next to him. He stirred only briefly, rolling over and wrapping an arm around her. V. closed her eyes, focusing on him against her, trying not to wonder about what would happen in the morning, or why the hell her sleep had been interrupted by Tig.

The morning was as awkward as V. had expected. She and Jax had circled each other uncomfortably, neither affectionate nor aggressive, each clearly wanting to be away from the other. V. was glad to see his bike leave the lot, and took her time getting ready to head to Teller-Morrow after he left. No need for them to come in suspiciously at the same time. _Jesus,_ she thought, as she pulled into the lot and got out of her car. _I'm fucking two men, and I'm trying to hide it. _The familiar bile of self-disgust rose in her throat. _You're a whore just like you've always been,_ she thought. _Why would that surprise you?_

Sitting down to her work, V.'s mind returned to Tig and the mystery girl. Glancing up at Gemma, she decided to take a chance on the woman's mood. "Hey Gemma," she asked, keeping her voice casual, "Tig got kids?"

Gemma scowled at the stack of mail in front of her. "Yeah. Two girls. Why?"

_Ah ha!_ V. shrugged. "No reason. Just thinkin' that almost all the guys have kids." She waited, hoping Gemma would give more information.

"Their names are Dawn and Fawn," Gemma smirked. "Named by their mother, clearly."

V. laughed. "Dawn and Fawn?"

Gemma nodded, still chuckling. V. felt a bit more satisfied. The girl must have been one of Tig's daughters. She was surprised, if he a kid locally, not to have known about it already, but Tig wasn't exactly her buddy. And she'd not met Bobby's kids' either. The girl she'd seen was certainly young enough to be Tig's daughter.

"Don't know how old Chibs' girl is now," Gemma said, her chuckle replaced by a knowing smirk. "Gotta be twelve or thirteen. Haven't seen her in years. His wife keeps her away."

V. felt her jaw tighten, but she said nothing. _Not gonna give the bitch the satisfaction, _she thought. She made a non-committal noise and returned to the account book before her.

Gemma looked up to see the top of V.'s bent head. _Didn't know that, did you, tart?_ she thought. Satisfied, she stood and left the office.

After Gemma left, V. looked up, shocked and irrationally angry. Chibs' daughter? His _wife_? It wasn't like she was expecting fidelity or anything, but you'd think those existences may have come up in conversation. They weren't around Charming, clearly, but Gemma hadn't said ex-wife, she'd said wife.

Rather than heading out to the ring after she finished in the office, as had become her habit, V. walked straight to her car. Her realization of the day before, that she wanted to belong with Sam Crow, to really be family, was nagging at her mind. _They aren't your family,_ she told herself firmly, keeping her eyes straight ahead not allowing even a stray glance towards the garage. _You're nothing to them. A fighter, a moneymaker, a whore. They've already got a family._ She couldn't get away fast enough.

The new few days passed slowly. V. spent as much time away as she could, coming to Teller-Morrow only to work in the office and leaving as soon as she was finished. She was exceptionally glad to have moved out when she did—it was great to have somewhere she could get away to. Still bothered by him being at her home, though, he kept an eye out for further Tig sightings at her building. She didn't see him.

On Friday morning, Tig was in the office talking to Gemma. Filing, V. ignored their conversation. Suddenly, she heard Gemma exclaim, "You got new boots! You? New boots? When was the last time that happened?

V. turned to see Tig's big feet propped up on the desk. His boots did appear to be new, shined to a subtle gloss. An odd expression crossed his face and he pulled his feet down. "Nah," he said. "Same ones. Just had 'em shined up." Peering at him a bit more closely, V. noticed that his worn leather cut, too, seemed to have a bit of a sheen. _Someone must have lost a bet and had to tend Tig's leather_, she thought. _But why wouldn't he tell us that?_

Before V. could think on it any further, she noticed Gemma had turned to the window and was scowling. "That ATF bitch is here," she said, her voice unsure in a way that struck V. as very unusual. Gemma wasn't afraid of much.

Tig jumped up. "That gash? Here?" He headed towards the door.

Gemma and V. walked out to the lot after Tig. Sons were also filtering out from the garage, curious and ill at ease.

The black car door opened ,and a tall women in a gray suit stepped out. She had long dirty blonde hair and wore sunglasses. Her movements were both graceful and somehow awkward. "Don't worry boys," she said, her tone both teasing and malicious. "Not here to go through your oil barrels today." She turned her head and looked around the parking lot, her eyes stopping in front of the office. She walked forward, towards V. and Gemma. Instantly, Tig was back at Gemma's side, his cold eyes locked on the agent. Though she couldn't stand Tig, V. did have to admire his loyalty.

"It's alright, Mr. Trager," the agent said, smiling her oily smile at Tig. "I'm not here to give Mrs. Morrow any trouble." She removed her sunglasses, fixing her stare on V. "Victoria Kramer?" she asked.

V. nodded. The agent continued. "I'm Agent June Stahl, Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms."

V. nodded again, saying nothing, keeping her eyes fixed on Agent Stahl. Stahl smiled. "Woman of few words? That's too bad. Turns out you're a person of interest to us." She raised her eyebrows. "Quite the knack you've got for making friends who like to move guns and drugs across state lines."

V. still remained silent. So far, this bitch had nothing. Best just to wait her out. When she saw she wasn't going to get a response, Stahl continued. "I'd like you to come down to Charming PD with me, Ms. Kramer. I'm set up there right now, talking to a few people. I think you and I might have a nice talk."

Before V. could answer, Clay came out of the garage. "Unless you got a warrant to be here," he said. "Get off my property."

Agent Stahl smiled that nasty smile again. "As a matter of fact, Mr. Morrow, I came with a different sort of warrant today." She pulled a set of handcuffs from her pocket and turned back to V. "Victoria Kramer, I am placing you under arrest. You have the right to remain silent."

V. kept her face still while Agent Stahl read her rights, allowing herself to be handcuffed without struggle.

"Wait a goddamn minute," Gemma said, her voice rising. "What are the charges?"

As Stahl began to lead V. towards the black car, she turned back and smiled, addressing the entire assembled group. "Transporting illegal firearms across state lines."

After the black car pulled out of the lot, Clay spoke. His voice was low, angry. "Get to the fuckin' table."

A few minutes later, Clay, Tig, Bobby, Chibs, Jax, Opie, and Juice sat at the heavy reaper-inscribed table. Piney was at the cabin and couldn't be reached. Clay looked at Jax. "You talked to V. about Stahl?"

Jax nodded. "Told her some about how it went down before, what kind of shit Stahl pulls." Chibs was surprised at this response. V. had been avoiding the Clubhouse for days—when had Jax talked to her?

"She think Stahl could dig up anything on her?" Clay's brow was furrowed with concern.

Jax shook his head. "No. She said the stuff Juice dug up on her is all there is to know."

Bobby broke in. "Sounds of it, what they got on V. is…us."

Tig scowled. "I don't like it, man. They're gonna be threatening her with time, getting her to tell them where she got those guns."

"Hold up," Opie said. "We don't know Stahl has shit. Bitch makes things up. Probably just tryin' to scare V. into givin' her something and will have to cut her loose when she won't talk."

Clay raised a hand for quiet, then nodded at Juice. "Get on the phone with Unser. See what he knows." Juice nodded. Returning to Jax, he asked, "You believe her when she says there's nothing else to hold her on? Don't want a repeat of that Cherry situation."

Jax shrugged. "No reason to think she's lyin'—we all saw her sheet. Lots of juvie time, but nothing but arrests as an adult. No outstanding shit."

Tig spoke up again. "I don't like that, either. How's somebody get arrested that much and nothin' stick?" He shook his head.

"Her cop, remember?" Bobby said. "She's had some help getting out of trouble."

Tig didn't look convinced. "Don't have to be the shit she got arrested for," he said. "Crazy bitch like that, who knows what else she's been into."

Chibs and Jax both looked quickly at Tig, searching for signs he knew more than he'd let on about her drug habits. Neither saw any. Though he knew he'd be better off to stay silent, Chibs finally spoke. "She's not goin' to say anything," he said, addressing Clay. "Won't matter if they really got something on her or not. She won't talk."

Juice and Opie both nodded. Neither of them could imagine V. ratting. Tig continued to scowl. Jax spoke. "I gave V. a heads up. She knows that ATF bitch's MO. She'll be fine." He smiled. "Besides, not like this is her first time bein' questioned."

Clay lit a cigar. "You'd better be right," he said. "That girl is causing more trouble than she's worth."

"Bullshit." Jax met his stepfather's gaze. "She's clearing us five grand a fight, and it will more. She ran our guns and would do it again. You can't say she's not a friend to the Club." Again, Juice and Opie nodded, as did Chibs, and finally Bobby. Jax was right. V.'s loyalty to the Club had thus far been impeccable.

"Guess we'll see," Clay answered.


	24. Chapter 24

Though Stahl had been trying various scare tactics for over an hour, V. had said almost nothing. She waited and listened, responding to questions with nods or not at all, concentrating on figuring out if the agent actually had anything on her. V. had been disturbed to hear that the charges she was being arrested on were for something she'd actually done, and done recently. That didn't bode well. Now that she was in the interrogation room, though, Stahl didn't seem to want to talk about V.'s involvement with gun running. Instead, she was going on at length about the violent history of the Club and how women around them were hurt and killed. It was she same tired stuff Deputy Hale had tried months ago, and Stahl was even less effective with it.

"These guys," Stahl said, shaking her head in mock concern, "they really don't take kindly to betrayal. Especially by a woman."

V. paid a bit more attention. _Betrayal? What betrayal?_ She remembered Jax's face, telling her about how Stahl had Clay believing Opie had ratted out the Club. Was she going to try that again? If they hadn't believed Opie, they sure as hell wouldn't believe her. "I can protect you from that backlash," Stahl continued. "Keep them from coming after you."

"They aren't coming after me," V. responded. She was guarded, trying to figure out how to cage Stahl's plan out of her so she would at least have some idea what to expect. If SAMCRO thought she was ratting them out, she knew her best plan would be to disappear.

Agent Stahl pulled a manila envelope from her briefcase. "If, for example," she said, "the Club were to see these…" she shook her head. "Might be bad for you."

Though she attempted to remain nonchalant, V. was waiting impatiently to see the contents of the envelope. What could the agent possibly have that would put her in a bad situation with the club? Her mind raced.

Stahl pulled a photograph from the envelope and slid it towards V. It showed her and Jax, him on top of her, her head thrown back. It had clearly been taken with a long-range lens. After glancing at it, V. looked up at Stahl and smiled. "Pretty sure they already know that," she said. Her subtext was clear. _Is that really all you've got?_

Stahl nodded, pulling another photo from the envelope. "Must be this one that's not public knowledge, then," she said, again pushing the picture towards V. This one was of her and Chibs, taken in the alley after the fight, him on his knees in front of her.

V. was flooded with relief that this was the angle Stahl was taking, and also amused. She chuckled, shaking her head. "Sorry," she said. "That's not gonna get me killed either."

Stahl was taken aback. She'd thought for sure this tramp was double-dipping into the Sam Crow pool, and that she'd do whatever she needed to keep them from finding out. Since she had no hard evidence tying V. to gun running, she was depending on it. She recovered quickly. "You're awfully confident." She raised her eyebrows. "I have to say, I'm surprised. Can't really imagine those boys sharing nicely."

V. rolled her eyes. "Unless there is something else in your little envelope," she said, "I think you'd better charge me with something or let me get the fuck out of here. We have nothing to talk about." She smiled snidely. "Unless you just get off on speculating about my sex life."

Agent Stahl shook her head in what was probably supposed to pass for sad concern. "It's such a shame," she said. "Pretty girl like you, all the trouble you've been in. I'll bet you think you're real hard." She slid another photo from the envelope. "Been on the phone to some friends in Texas," she said. "Horrible story. Gutted and left for dead, fetus removed…really sick shit." She slid the picture at V. It was, like the ones with which Leo had tried to scare her, of the night he'd cut her open. In this one, there was police tape around the bloody concrete, and around the fetus.

V. set her jaw. _Does this bitch think she can just upset me into giving up something on Sam Crow?_ She was thankful for her anger—it kept the tears from her eyes, kept her from shaking. Stahl continued. "The way I understand it, you had a chance to put the fuckers who did this behind bars, but you didn't take it." She shook her head. "Doesn't make sense to me."

V. kept her face silent and stony. _You don't know shit about me, bitch,_ she thought. _And you've got nothing._ "Charge me," she said, coldly, "or leave me the fuck alone."

Stahl shook her head again. "No need to be rude," she said. "I thought we were having a nice talk." When she went to pull another photograph from the envelope, V. felt her heart sink. _What else could this horrible woman possibly have to show her?_ The agent slid the photo towards her. It was taken in the parking lot of her new building, and showed Tig with the girl V. had seen from her window. It was similar to what V. had witnessed, with Tig on his bike and the standing beside it, looking at him. This picture made clear what V. had assumed before—the girl was very, very young. She couldn't have been more than 18. Stahl tapped her finger on the picture. "Who is this mystery girl? I know you moved into her building. Are there more of you there? Is it a halfway house for Sam Crow pussy?"

V. kept her face still, but her mind was racing. Surely Stahl would know if the girl was Tig's daughter? She had to have information on the guys' families. V. answered carefully, hoping the detective would inadvertently give her more. "Never seen her."

Stahl rolled her eyes. "Right. She lives downstairs from you and she's banging a Son and you've never seen her. Let me help start you off. Her name is Aisha."

_Aisha? Not Fawn or Dawn?_ Trying to keep her surprised hidden, V. glanced again at the photo. "Doesn't look like banging to me," she replied. "And I'm not much on socializing with the neighbors."

Stahl smirked. "You think you're pretty clever," she said. "I'd almost buy that you don't know this girl if I didn't already know you're a lying whore." She shrugged. "Doesn't matter. I can find her." She returned to the picture, her long finger now tapping Tig's face. "He's an interesting one, isn't he?" She moved the photograph over, returning her gaze to the police scene picture of V. "Of all those boys, he's the one I can see doing something like this." She wrinkled her nose. "Little bit sadistic, that one. Can't imagine you're in his fan club."

_Jesus,_ V. thought. _This might be her stupidest tactic yet._ "Seems OK to me," she said. Much as she disliked Tig, it wasn't as if she was going to give anything up on him. Holding her face still and waiting for the agent's next line of bullshit, she remembered him the night she'd killed Leo. His cold efficiency, his assurance that they'd clean up the mess, and that, at her request, her brother would be left unharmed. She didn't have to like him; he'd earned her loyalty with that.

June Stahl as beginning to lose her patience. After doing her research on V., she'd been sure there would be an easy way in with her. Between her long arrest record, her traumatic past, and the fact she was currently fucking two Sam Crow members, there had to be something. So far, though, there had been barely a crack in her impassivity. She didn't afraid scared of Sam Crow or of the law. And, though Stahl was nearly sure V. had something to do with Sam Crow's gun running, she had nothing concrete to tie her to it, so she wasn't going to be able to keep her here for long.

-0-

Snapping shut his phone, Juice smiled at the other Sam Crow members crowded around the bar. "Unser overheard Stahl talking to Hale. She has shit on V., and V. won't give her anything. They're going to have to cut her loose." He widened his grin. "Old man says V. looks like she's going to haul off and punch Stahl."

Several of the men chuckled. Nobody minded the mental picture of V. knocking the ATF Agent down a few pegs. "The gun running thing?" Clay asked.

"Unser said they don't have anything but theories."

Clay nodded. At this point, even theories were too much. V. was definitely out of the gun transportation business.

"Unser know when they're gonna let her go?" Jax asked. Just a few feet away from him, Chibs was quiet, knowing Jax would assume it was his place to pick V. up from the station, and feeling it wouldn't be smart to challenge him on it.

Juice shook his head. "Said it could be a couple of hours, at least. Stahl isn't going to give her up until she has to."

Opie, who had been painfully quiet since V.'s arrest, finally spoke. "This won't be the end of it," he said. "If she thinks V. is a way to get to us, she'll keep at her." The other men nodded, knowing this was true.

"Could be bad, man," Tig said. "Even if nothin' comes out of it this time. Crazy bitch like that. Could be a liability."

Surprising everyone, it was Chibs who responded. "We start worryin' about crazy bitches, this place is gonna get awful empty. Besides, V. hasn't done a goddamn thing to make us think she's a threat to Sam Crow."

Tig sneered. "You ain't exactly impartial."

The air in the room seemed suddenly heavier. Though everyone knew about V. and Chibs, this was the first time Chibs had been called out in front of the whole club. He said nothing.

Opie broke the silence. "I'm impartial," he said. "And I trust V. I don't think she's a rat. If she wouldn't rat out that fucking butcher Leo, she won't rat us out either." He ran a hand through his beard. "But we gotta keep an eye on things. If Stahl has eyes on her, we gotta make sure she doesn't do anything she can get picked up for. No fights."

The other members nodded. The fights were so commonplace, they barely thought of them as illegal, but they were. Opie was right. If she was Stahl's new attempt at a way to the Club, V. was going to have to keep her hands clean.


	25. Chapter 25

He wouldn't have admitted it, but Chibs had felt his heart sink when Stahl slapped the cuffs on V. Though he'd told himself, just as they all had, that the ATF didn't have anything on her and she'd be out before the sun went down, he still didn't like seeing her led to that black car. Unlike the rest of the Sons, who found novelty in a girl being arrested, even if it was V., for Chibs it brought back dark memories. Young girls with wide eyes and blood on their hands, pushed into dumpy squad cars, girls with bombs still strapped to their bodies, even his Fi, who'd never done time, but not for lack of trying. After this was all over, he'd be just as amused as the next guy at the thought of Stahl faced off with V., but until then it just wasn't striking him as funny.

The immediate tension in the Clubhouse didn't help. After what had happened with Opie, and Donna's death, it was an even more serious thing than before to imply someone might be a rat, and it had been all he could do to keep his temper hearing V.'s loyalty questioned. Chibs couldn't say he liked Tig, necessarily, but he got on with him fine. He was confident they always had one another's backs, as brothers should, and thought, when he gave it any thought at all, that behind Tig's cold exterior was loyalty and strength—qualities to be admired. Unlike Jax, he didn't feel compelled to challenge or argue with Tig. Still, Tig's constant insistence that there was something wrong with V., that she could be a danger to the club, set him on edge.

Looking around the room, Chibs saw everyone had returned to his own thing. Bobby was reading at the bar, Clay and Gemma talking at a table. Jax and Opie were playing pool. He'd been attempting to stay away from V., unsure that he was in control enough to handle her, but he wanted to see her now. When he went out to his bike, he told himself he was just going for a ride, but before long he was pointed in the direction of her new apartment. She might not be home yet, but he could wait for her.

As he pulled into the small parking lot, Chibs' eyes narrowed behind his sunglasses. _Another motorcycle? _Pulling closer, he recognized the bike as Tig's and felt himself go cold. Why the fuck would Tig be here?

A rush of images flooded Chibs' mind. V., smiling through bloody lips, clearly wanting only more pain. Fi, leaving him for Jimmy because he was "too soft." Himself, on his knees in front of V. after her fight. It had happened, then. She'd sensed too much caring in him, too little control, and she'd moved on to someone who would hurt her more. Happy had declined. Tig was perfect. A natural sadist, and for V., all the better that he couldn't stand her. For a moment, all Chibs felt was sad. Then the anger came.

-0-

By the time V. was finally released from the police station, she was well and truly pissed. Being kept in a small windowless room for five or six hours for no real reason did not put her in a particularly giving frame of mind. To top that, though, she was furious at Chibs for not telling her about the wife and kid, and even madder at herself for caring. Not wanting to take a chance on seeing him, or really seeing anyone, she decided that rather than call someone to pick her up, she'd walk the couple of miles from the station to her house.

When she got to her block, V. was sweaty and in an even worse frame of mind. Turning into the small lot in front of her building, she saw a motorcycle and groaned. As she approached, intending to see whose bike it was, she saw its owner leave the building, pulling his gloves on as he walked right towards her. Tig.

"What the fuck?" When Tig looked up and saw her, a second of panic flashed across his cold eyes. He moved closer to her quickly, menacingly. "What are you doing here?"

V. smirked. _Catching you at whatever it is you don't want anybody to know about,_ she thought. "I live here," she said. "I moved in upstairs about a week ago. What are you doing here?"

Tig couldn't believe what she was saying. It took a second for it to sink in. She lived here. Upstairs. Upstairs from Aisha. _Fuck._

"I think you know someone else in the building," V. continued, enjoying his discomfort. "A little girl called Aisha?"

Tig's posture moved from uncomfortable to furious. "What the fuck do you know about Aisha?" he hissed, his face uncomfortably close to hers.

V. raised her eyebrows. "Only what the agent just told me. That she lives here and has some sort of relationship with you." She saw no reason to mention having seen them out her window. "She's got pictures. Says she's gonna bring the girl in."

Tig grabbed V.'s shoulder, hard. "What the fuck did you tell that Fed?" His face was twisted now, threatening.

V. kept calm. "Didn't tell her anything. Said I just moved here, don't know my neighbors, and don't give a shit who you fuck."

Tig let go. V. was amazed at how panicked he seemed, and struggled not to smile. No matter if they were in the shit or not, it was a beautiful thing to see Tig sweat.

Tig's face was guarded now, hating to have to ask V. for anything, but needing to know what she knew. "What did she say?"

V. continued to hide her smile. _This is killing you, isn't it?_ she thought. _Having to ask me for information?_ "Don't think she's got much. Knows the girl's name is Aisha and that she lives here." Then, unable to stop herself, she added, "She might think Aisha is your daughter. I did."

Tig scowled. "And the bitch going to bring her in?"

V. nodded. "So she said."

"Shit." Tig was quiet a moment.

"The Club doesn't know about her, do they?" V. wasn't sure she should ask.

Tig didn't answer, but his face made it clear. Aisha, whoever she was, was a secret.

_They're gonna have to know now,_ Tig thought. There was no way he was going to be able to keep Aisha hidden from the club if the Feds got to her.

"Look," V. said, meeting Tig's eyes, "I'm not going to tell anybody. But if she's gonna be a threat to the club, you'd better find a new place to stash her."

Tig nodded curtly. Oddly, he believed V. when she said she wouldn't tell the Club about Aisha. She had no reason to offer him the courtesy, but he didn't think she was lying.


	26. Chapter 26

_Jesus, that was weird. _In her apartment, V. kicked off her boots and opened a beer. Replaying the exchange with Tig in her head, she wasn't sure why, but she felt as if she'd won something. _That makes it the one part of this day that didn't completely fucking suck,_ she thought.

Within a few minutes, V. had abandoned her beer and begun to pace restlessly. Looking up at the high ceiling beams, she wondered idly if she could hang a heavy bag from them. Since starting to fight again, she'd relearned the urge to spar all the time, but the set-up at the Clubhouse didn't always feel like the most welcoming place. The longer she paced, the more she thought about the things Stahl told her—in particular, about Chibs' wife and daughter. And the more she paced and thought, the angrier she was. Jax and Chibs, both so horrified that she would fuck both of them, both, in reality, married? She snorted. _That's fucking rich._

V. knew she should go to the Clubhouse to let Clay know how things had gone with Stahl, or at the very least give one of the Sons a call, but she just couldn't rouse herself to do it. After the day she'd had, she didn't at all feel like the another interrogation. Instead, she decided she'd make the most of having her own place now and take a long, hot bath. As the old tub filled with water around her, V. relaxed for what felt like the first time in weeks. It was really good to be alone.

-0-

When Tig returned to the Clubhouse, Chibs was in the ring with the Prospect. Though he was paying enough attention to find something to yell at Half-Sack every now and again, he concentration was divided. Every time he thought of Tig's bike parked at V.'s place, a place that he hadn't even yet visited, he felt the blood begin to pulse at his temple. When Tig pulled into the lot, the pulsing intensified. As a younger man, Chibs would have been across the pavement before Tig was fully dismounted, throwing punches first and asking questions later. Now, though, he held steady. There was no use making more waves in the Club when the problem was really V.

_Fucking V!_ Chibs paced around the ring as if his skin was on too tight. Though he tried not to think about it, his mind filled with images of Fiona, snippets of her words. She'd warned him. She'd told him that for a woman who needs to be hurt, there would always be someone willing to do more, go farther, than him. _Is that really all she's looking for?_ he wondered. _Is she trying to get one of us to kill her?_

Realizing vaguely that the Prospect was talking to him, but not able to make out what he was saying, Chibs jumped out of the ring. "Gotta take care of somethin'," he mumbled in Half-Sack's direction, not paying any attention to the response. Then he got on his bike and headed back to V.'s apartment.

-0-

V. was submerged to her chin in the deep bathtub, her feet propped up on the edge. Her head was tipped back and her eyes closed. Though she was nearly asleep, she heard the creak of the apartment door opening. She tensed, listening, ready to spring up from the tub, but the boot steps she heard were familiar. She closed her eyes, waiting until she could hear his breath above her. Then, without opening then, she asked, "Don't you fuckin' knock?"

"Figured I ought to have a standin' invitation." His voice wasn't amused, and she opened her eyes. He was looking coldly down at her, unsmiling. "What the fuck are you doing?"

V. smirked. "Bathing?" She flexed one foot and returned it to the water.

"Didn't think you ought to let us what you told Stahl?" He intentionally kept his eyes on her face, ignoring her less-than-subtle movements in the water.

"Jesus," V. groaned. "I was going to call somebody after I had five fuckin' minutes to myself."

Chibs' rage grew. _Time to herself?_ Confronted with him knowing Tig had been here, he hadn't expected her to lie about it. For weeks he'd avoided asking her if she was still sleeping with Jax, afraid she'd tell him the truth if he asked. Maybe he'd given her too much credit. "So," he said, slowly. "You just came home from the station and…took a bath?"

V. rolled her eyes. "Yes. I came home and took a bath." As if she wasn't already irritated enough by having learned of Chibs' secret family, his coming in here and giving her the third degree was not earning him any favors. She'd looked away from Chibs in irritation and didn't even see it coming when he hit her, hard, across the face.

V. was stunned for a moment. Before she could even react, Chibs' hands were both on her, pushing her down into the bathtub. "You lying fucking whore," she heard him say, before her head was fully submerged.

He held her under for only a few seconds, but she came up sputtering and enraged. "What is wrong with you?" she yelled. "Are you fucking crazy?" She lunged towards him, nude and wet, and he pushed her again, landing her against the side of the porcelain tub with a wet thud.

He stepped back then, as if he was going to leave her. She got up quickly, diving at him, her fists flying. Off-balance and lightheaded from the hot water and the unexpected blows, she connected only with his chest, hitting him with her full strength there, leaving marks he'd wear for a week. He retaliated, grabbing her arm and throwing her against the tub again. She caught herself before she fell in, cursing and running at him again, pushing him out of the bathroom.

In the apartment's main room, V. backed away from Chibs, looking around quickly for anything she could use as a weapon. This wasn't a spar. It wasn't friendly, and it wasn't foreplay. He was trying to hurt her. When her fist connected with her cheekbone again, with a sharp shot of pain across her face, she felt something she'd been without for so long she'd nearly forgotten it. Fear.

Chibs grabbed V.'s shoulders again, throwing her this time against the small table. She stumbled to the floor. As she rose, she tasted blood where she'd bitten her lip. Her back ached where she'd hit the bathtub. He was staring at her, wild-eyed, clearly furious. "What did I do?" she asked, trying to move to put the table between herself and Chibs. "What the fuck is this about?" She pulled a chair into her chest, and when Chibs came closer to her she swung it, knocking him nearly over and breaking the chair. If he wanted to fight, she'd fight.

Chibs righted himself. "Pretend you don't know, you lying cunt," he said. He stepped over the broken chair and grabbed her again, this time tossing her towards her bed. "Is there anybody in the club you aren't fucking?"

V. curled into herself on the bed. "This is about Jax?" She sighed. She'd known, of course, that the shit would hit the fan at some point, with either Jax or Chibs, but wasn't quite what she'd pictured.

"Jax?" Chibs' voice was low and cold. He laughed with a cruel, hard sound. "No, it's not about Jax." He was quiet for a moment. "You figured it out, didn't you? Knew I was fallin' in love with you." He shook his head. "And you can't have that. Not you. You only want meanness, pain, misery." He shrugged. "Well, you win, princess. You got it. Meanness." He hit her again, but it wasn't hard this time. It was it his heart wasn't in it. "Pain." Another punch, to her shoulder. "Misery."

V. scooted back on the bed until her back was against the wall. "In love with me?" she asked. Her voice was first confused, then bitter. "Fuck you. You have a fucking wife. A kid. I'm a piece on the side. A whore, just like you said. You don't fucking love me." She tried to stay steady, to keep the betrayal from her voice.

_A wife? A kid? _Chibs was quiet a moment. _Had V. been with Tig because she'd learned about Fiona and Kerianne? Was she…hurt? _"I do have a wife," he said, slowly. "And a kid. I haven't seen either of them in about ten years…" he trailed off, then began again. "My wife, Fiona…she left when she was still pregnant." There was no use, he knew, in telling her how much of Fi he saw in her. "Kerrianne, my daughter, she's never known me as her dad. They're in Ireland."

"So? Still would have been worth fuckin' mentioning." She didn't miss the pain in his face when he spoke of his daughter, but couldn't let it distract her. "You come in here and think you can beat on me, because you got some idea how you should be the only man, and you don't think I need to know you got a wife?"

It was unmistakable in her voice now. She was hurt. She was bruised, and angry, and hurt. Chibs felt oddly elated. For weeks he'd wanted to have some effect on this woman, to make her feel something beyond surface pleasure and pain. And he could see she felt it now. "I didn't think it mattered," he said, honestly. "Fi's not a part of my life. Neither is Kerianne. Didn't make any difference." He swallowed. "And I am in love with you." He knew that having told her made everything different. Likely, it would put him in the same category with Jax—men V. couldn't trust to give her what she actually needed and not saddler her with more. It would probably drive her straight towards Tig. But he had to say it now.

"Get out." V.'s voice was soft now. She wasn't going to fight anymore.

"No."


	27. Chapter 27

"No." Chibs' voice wasn't loud, but it was firm. His face was set. He wasn't leaving.

V. stared at him. Her back was against the wall, her arms wrapped around her still-naked body. She felt trapped, claustrophobic. _He's in love with me?_ She was assaulted by the words more than she had been by his fists. _He fucking knows I can't hear that. I don't know what to do with it, where to put it._ Her heart pounded. She closed her eyes for a moment, willing the whole scene away. When she opened them, he was still there, still looking at her. Then he was moving towards her. Then he was wrapping his arms around her.

For a moment, she struggled, trying to push him away. "No," he said again, holding her tighter against his chest, pinning her arms against him. "Shhh." He held her until she stopped fighting, pulling her completely into his lap. Then he kissed her hard, knowing even before he did that she'd respond. She always responded. It wouldn't matter how she felt about his confession, or about him coming in here and hitting her, just like it wouldn't matter for him how angry he was with her about Tig, or how much he hated that he'd lose control. Once it started between them, none of that would matter. Once it started, it would move of its own volition. It was going to be different this time, though_,_ he realized, lying her down on the bed and moving his lips down from her face to her breasts. He was going to hold back, take her slow, make her beg. He was going to be Tig's opposite in every way. And even though she'd fight it, try to make him fuck her harder, try to make him hurt her, she was going to love it.

-0-

Chibs remained awake long after V. fell asleep. He was surprised she seemed to be sleeping so easily; it felt like an accomplishment. He sat next to her with his head propped against the wall, smoking, thinking. She'd responded better than he'd expected she would, both to his declaration of love and to the slow, teasing way he'd fucked her. She hadn't fought it, but had lay still, letting him explore her body with his hands and mouth, then take her in long, smooth thrusts. Each time he got close to coming he'd slowed down to an almost imperceptible pace, drawing more and more out of her before he began to fuck her fully again. Finally, he'd buried his face in her hair, whispering nonsense in her ear in a brogue much thicker than usual. She wrapped her legs around him tightly, holding him deep inside her, and shuddered around him as she came. He smiled, remembering it. Though he'd slept with V. several times now, it was like she was a different woman each time. The first time, she was cold and practiced, using her body well, but seeming indifferent. Since then, she'd been all variations of volatile, violent, and desperate, both begging for pain and wanting to inflict it. Tonight, though, it was as if her hurt and anger and coldness and hollowness were all on hold. As if he was feeling some real, core part of her that he hadn't felt before. This time had felt honest. _Don't get mushy,_ he chided himself. _You may love her, but that doesn't mean she gives a shit about you. Whatever you think you're feeling, she's_ _not._ Still, he couldn't help but smile. Given her shaking and moaning, she'd certainly felt something.

After Chibs stubbed out his last cigarette and slid his head down to the mattress, he felt V. stir next to him. To his complete surprise, she didn't sit up and demand he leave. Instead, she rolled towards him. "You still awake?" she murmured.

"Aye," he answered, cautiously.

She said nothing else, but laid her head against his chest. Automatically, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, and she relaxed against it. A few minutes later, her breath returned to its regular, sleeping rhythm. Again, Chibs smiled to himself in the dark, inhaling the scent of her hair. Within a few more minutes, he, too, was asleep.

-0-

"You have got to be fucking kidding me." V.'s eyes flashed with anger as she looked at the faces around the Reaper table. None of them looked like they were joking.

"No." Clay's face was set, his cigar clamped between his teeth. "With the ATF sniffin' around, we can't take chances on you gettin' popped for somethin' stupid."

"OK, fine," V. said. "No more gun runs. I get that. But the fights? That shit is barely illegal." She felt herself starting to panic, her hands automatically balling into fists. She hadn't realized, when she wasn't fighting, how much she'd missed it. She didn't want to lose it again. Aside from that, though, she knew it was her main value to the Club. Without fighting, without doing anything that could call legal attention to her, what good was she to them?

"With the heat on you, it's illegal enough," Bobby said. "You gotta give up whatever else you got goin' outside the law, too."

V. furrowed her brow. _What was he talking about? _Seeing her look, he continued. "No carryin' a piece. No stealin'. No drugs."

"You, sweetheart," Tig said, looking amused, but more kindly towards her than she'd ever noticed in the past, "are grounded."

"Jesus Christ!" V. didn't bother attempting to hide her rage. "You want me to stop drinking and stay celibate, too? Maybe join a fuckin' sorority? Or become a nun?" Her fist made a dull thudding sound as it hit the table. "What the fuck am I supposed to do?"

Clay smiled, amused, though verging on annoyed. "Dunno," he said. "Maybe you could try bein' a girl?" He chuckled. "Get your nails done and shit?" There were several guffaws from around the table. Clay the turned serious. "You can go now. We got other stuff to discuss."

Still livid, but knowing better than to argue with the dismissal, V. pulled her Beretta from her jacket and laid it on the table. Saying nothing, she turned and left the little room, slamming the door behind her.

No sooner had the door closed than the faces around the table began to break into laughs. "She took that well," Bobby chuckled. "Though she might be gonna shoot you."

Clay looked amused, too. "Gotta admire her wanting to work," he said. He turned then to Jax. "You think she'll keep clean?"

Jax nodded. "Yeah. She knows it's important to the Club, she'll do it." As he spoke, Jax realized that he liked the idea of a disarmed V. Stripped of her own weapons, V. might realize that being protected wasn't a bad thing. Across the table from him, Chibs was thinking just the opposite. The idea of V. "being good" made him uncomfortable and anxious. He also didn't share Jax's belief that V. would obediently comply. V. would do all she could to help the Club. She was loyal to them and wouldn't intentionally put them in any danger. Unlike the men at the table, though, she had no respect for the Club's internal hierarchy. There was no reason for her to do anything just because Clay said so.

The conversation turned back to the description V. had given the group of her conversation with Stahl. She hadn't told them everything, skipping Stahl's envelope of photographs—both the ones of her with Chibs and Jax and the one of Tig and Aisha. The rest of the conversation, though, she'd recounted nearly verbatim, ensuring the group that Stahl didn't have much.

Bobby looked trouble. "Somethin' seems off, man," he said. "That ATF bitch ain't stupid. Why would she drag V. in if she didn't have anything to try to scare her with?"

Clay nodded. "You think she's holdin' out?" He didn't look pleased.

"Nah." Tig hoped his voice sounded more sure and casual than he felt. He knew—or thought he did—exactly what V. was leaving out. "Bitch is probably just gettin' desperate. Saw V. was new around here and thought she'd be easy to push." He shook his head and smiled. "Bet she came outta that feelin' stupid." Then he noticed, again, that Chibs was glaring daggers at him. _What the fuck is that about?_

It was all Chibs could do not to lunge across the table and smack the smile off Tig's face. Just yesterday he was suspecting V. would sell out the Club at the first opportunity, and now he was defending her. Even if he hadn't seen Tig's bike at V.'s, that would have tipped him off. _Bastard might talk a good game,_ he thought darkly, _but when it comes to protecting great pussy, he's just like any other man._

"Whichever of you is fuckin' her this week," Clay said, rolling his eyes, "keep a goddamn eye on her." He pulled a hand through his gray hair, then looked up. "OK, what else we got?"


	28. Chapter 28

_Whichever of you is fucking her this week_…Clay's words rang in Chibs' head as the Sons filed out of Church. _That's me, innit? _he thought, briefly recalling himself poised above V.'s naked and shaking body the night before. His brief glow of satisfaction was cut short by his next thought. _But it's Tig, too. And probably Jax. _He was mystified at the idea—never in a million years had he thought he'd be unwillingly sharing a woman with not one, but two of his brothers. Especially Tig. The idea was infuriating, frustrating, nauseating.

Before Chibs could get too deep in his own thoughts, Bobby's voice snapped him out of it. "So what happened to her face?" The Sons had all left the table and congregated around the bar, opening beers. He was clearly talking about V. "She got action we ain't in on?"

Opie looked perplexed. "You think V.'s got fights we don't know about?"

Juice nodded slowly. "She could. There's other fights around."

Chibs swallowed. He'd been surprised to see V. had made no attempt to cover the bruises on her face from the night before.

"Goddamn," Clay said. "You think that bitch is holdin' out? We take her in here and she's holdin' out?" Already on edge due to the proximity of Stahl, his temper was clearly rising.

"Dunno," Bobby said. "But she clearly ran into somebody's fist between yesterday and today."

_Fuck_, Chibs thought. _This is not gonna go well._ "I did it." He spoke quickly and quietly, as if trying not to be heard.

"You did what?" Bobby looked confused.

"V.'s face. Last night. That was me. She doesn't have any side action." He could feel all the eyes in the room on him. Jax was advancing on him in seconds.

"You hit V.?" His voice was terse, already angry and looking for a reason not to hold back. His heart had begun to beat erratically. The idea that Chibs had hit V. bothered him more than the prospect he was sleeping with her.

Before Chibs could respond, Tig had grabbed Jax's arm. "Easy man," he said. He gazed levelly at Chibs, understanding in his cold eyes. The look enraged Chibs. _What are we, fucking commiserating? Some kind of I-love-to-hit-women club?_

Jax pulled his arm away from Tig, his eyes blazing and locked on Chibs. "Why would you do that?" he yelled. He knew, if he stopped and thought it though, that there was a time, not long ago, when he'd left bruises on V. himself. This was different, though. His recent image of her was not of the woman he'd tied to the bed, but as the one who cried in his arms—a much more fragile creature. There was no justification for leaving bruises on her face.

Chibs fought to retain his composure. He was so fed up with all of it-with Jax's assumption that he had some kind of calling to be V.'s protector, with Tig's disgusting conspiratorial sneer, with V. herself, coming in here wearing bruises, probably knowing he'd end up having to explain them—if he let himself lose his temper, he felt like he'd never have it in check again. Jax was right up in his face now, though. Chibs balled up his fists. If this was going to be their big fight, so be it.

Before any punches could be thrown, Clay was standing between them, red-faced with anger. "I have had enough of this shit," he yelled. "You," he jerked his thumb at Jax, "back the fuck off." Then he nodded towards Chibs. "You I need out of town. Make a run to Jury's. Check on our guns."

Chibs knew it was a bullshit errand, just a way for Clay to keep him separated from Jax for a couple of days. He also knew it wouldn't do him any good to argue. He nodded curtly, turned on his heel, and stomped out of the Clubhouse.

As he returned to his bar stool, Clay shook his head. "Never shoulda let that bitch in the fuckin' door," he said.

-0-

Jax found V. in the first place he looked. She was in outside ring, barefoot and bare-knuckled, alternating punches and kicks on the heavy bag. She didn't acknowledge him. He watched her face for a few moments, frowning as his eyes ran over the bruises. He felt as angry with her as he had with Chibs. Remembering her urging him to fuck her hard, smiling when he pushed her face into the side of shower, he doubted seriously that her bruised face had been anything short of consensual. His stomach twisted.

Moving towards V., Jax grabbed her hand and put himself between her and the bag. She stopped, looking at his with irritation. "What?"

"Your face." He reached his hand up and stroked her cheek gently. "You OK?"

V. gave him a withering look. "Yes. Fine."

"Chibs did this?"

V. raised her eyebrow. _How the fuck would Jax know that? Christ, was Chibs bragging about it?_ "Yeah. So?"

Jax took a breath. He hadn't expected V. to so readily admit it. Before he could say anything, she continued. "It's none of your business, Jax. Don't worry about it."

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Jax exploded. "That's what you want? A man who beats you? Are you that fucking damaged?" He was angry enough not to notice that he himself was now gripping her arm to hard it would leave marks. "All that bitching about me trying to control you, and what you really wanted was to be smacked around?"

V. smiled, pulling her arm from Jax's grasp. "Somethin' like that," she muttered, attempting to turn away from him. This was a conversation she had no intention of having.

He grabbed her again, pulling her back around close to face him. "No," he said, his voice still angry. "You're gonna fuckin' explain this to me. You know I would never hit you. You know I want to help you, to protect you. You know I fucking love you. Why would you choose this instead?"

The words fell heavy between them. Neither Jax nor Chibs had ever before suggested that V. should make a choice between them, much less that she already had. "I haven't chosen anything," she said, meeting Jax's eyes and making her meaning clear, "except to do whatever the fuck I want to do. As always, if you have a problem with that, it's your issue, not mine."

At that, Jax turned away. This had rapidly become another variation of their same old argument, and he knew better to continue it, especially in full view of anybody who walked out of the Clubhouse. He was still enraged, and he felt oddly naïve. Was this what V. had wanted from him all along? Were the bruises she was wearing—he couldn't help but think of them as Chibs' mark—a sign of how he'd failed?

As Jax walked away, V. turned back to the bag. Twice as angry as she'd been before, she resumed pummeling it. Her back ached—it was bruised far worse than her face—and she knew she should stop, but thought if she did she might end up taking her rage out on a less inanimate object. _Fuck you Clay,_ she thought, driving in a right jab as she thought of him telling her to be a girl and get her nails done. _And fuck you, Jax,_ as she swung a left hook and thought of his disgusted, pitying face. _And fuck YOU, Chibs,_ as she kicked the bag with all her might, imagining how anxious he'd apparently been to let his brothers know he'd put bruises on her. _I'm not your fucking prize._

V. was so involved in imagining the bag as everyone she was mad at that she didn't even notice Chibs, dressed to ride, coming up behind her. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her away from the bag. "Stop it," he said, his voice low in her ear. "You're gonna hurt yourself." Before she responded, she felt his lips on her neck, his hands against her stomach, her body pulled against his.

V. fought the urge to lean back into him, pulling herself away and turning to face him. "I'm fine," she said tersely.

"You gotta be sore," he replied, raising an eyebrow. "Why don't you come inside with me? I gotta go on a run for a couple of days. Come tell me goodbye." Even though his sunglasses covered his eyes, V. knew the teasing lecherousness was there. He pulled her towards him again, leaning down towards her ear to whisper, "I'll be gentle."

The rage that had momentarily subsided returned full force. "Fuck you," she hissed, pulling away again.

Chibs' brow wrinkled. "What the hell?" Things had seemed fine between them earlier. Unlike every other time they'd slept together, she hadn't immediately begun ignoring him the next day. "Is this about you being pulled off the fights? That's not my decision."

V. snorted. "Of course it's not. God forbid any of you disagree with the almighty Clay." She rolled her eyes. "So tell me, did you wait until after the meeting to brag about putting me in my place, or was it on the goddamn agenda?"

Behind the shades, Chibs' eyes widened with understanding. _Jesus,_ he thought. I can't get a fuckin' break. _The bastards couldn't have waited until I was on the highway to make sure V. knew they know who hit her?_ "It wasn't like that," he began, but she cut him off.

"I don't give a fuck what it was like," she responded. "You bastards are all the same. All about ways to prove your ownership. Well, I'm not your goddamn property."

At this, Chibs felt bile rise in his throat. As thought V. hadn't already made it perfectly clear that she wasn't his property. Her nerve was amazing. "You think I'd want my mark on you?" he hissed, grabbing her wrists and pushing her body against the bag. "You're a whore. You're like some greedy little girl who wants to play with all the toys, except your too goddamn old to pull it off. You're too psychotic to hold on to a good man, and the bad ones?" he smiled. "We just want to play with you. Nobody's talkin' about leavin' a mark." He sneered. "Don't give yourself so much credit, V. If it wasn't you, it would be somebody else. You're just another used up slut." He pushed his body harder against hers, his lips once again next to her ear. "And that's just how you want it. You want me to take you down right here on the cement." She could feel him hard against her stomach, feel herself respond. "You want it to hurt, and you want it to be dirty, and you want everybody to know just how filthy you are." He wrapped his arms hard around her neck, trapping her against him. "You're the one who wanted to be used," he said. "I'm just doin' what you asked."

Unable to stop herself, V. shuddered. His words were terrible, and she knew they'd echo in her head when she was next alone, but now they only served to heighten her arousal. He was right. She did want to be filthy, and she did want everyone to know. If she hadn't wanted the bruises to be questioned, she would have covered them up. Knowing that he knew that, that even now, his instinct for her worst urges was correct, made her heart beat faster. Hating herself for it, she parted her lips. "So use me," she said. She pressed herself against him even tighter, so he could feel the pressure of her breasts against the bruises her fists had left on his chest the previous night. She turned her eyes to his. "Or do you just love me too much?" Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

More even than when he'd first approached her, he wanted to drag her back to his room and make her scream. But the wanting was less important now than the lesson. He knew he'd made a mistake in confessing his love to her, and he had to do what he could to correct it. Gathering his rather meager reserve of self-control, he leaned forward as if to kiss her. "Nobody loves you," he whispered into her mouth, just loud enough for her to hear. "Nobody ever will." Then he pulled away, stomping towards his bike without looking back.


	29. Chapter 29

The first few days of Chibs' run passed uneventfully. V. remained pissed off at the Club in general, avoiding the Clubhouse except when working. She felt restless, as if she was waiting for something to happen, but she didn't know what it was. Every noise made her jump, and several times she'd been sure she'd heard the familiar and dreaded voices of Leo's goons in the parking lot, but gone to the window to see nobody there.

By the end of the week, Gemma's curiosity about V.'s agitation had the better of her. After the second time in an afternoon she'd seen V. jump in her chair at the sound of a power tool starting in the garage, she asked, "What the fuck is going on with you? You've been jumpy all week."

"Nothing, I'm fine." V. didn't look up.

"Bullshit. No way you spook for no reason." Gemma rolled her chair closer, waiting impatiently for V. to look up and meet her eyes. "Did somethin' happen? Is somebody tailing you or something?" Her eyes narrowed. "Is this about Stahl?"

V. shook her head. "No, really, it's nothing." Knowing Gemma would never let her off that easy, she sighed and decided on the truth. "They…Clay…they took my gun. Said I can't fight or carry weapons."

"Yeah. Gotta keep it clean because you've got heat on. I know." Gemma still looked perplexed.

"I'm just not used to feeling defenseless," V. said. "I don't like it. Spooks me." As V. spoke, Gemma saw her not as she currently was, but as she'd looked when she'd first arrived in Charming, still healing, still frightened. It hadn't been that long ago that she'd met V. in the café, taking a chance on offering her a job because there was something in her, something ballsy but scared, that she recognized.

Gemma smiled. It struck V. as odd, but she looked motherly. "Baby," she said, "don't you get it? You're safe here. Protected." She nodded towards the garage. "They're not gonna let anybody hurt you."

V. smiled back. It felt good—weird, but good—to have Gemma being nice to her again, however brief it would be. "That's different than being able to protect myself," she said. She met Gemma's eyes. "I think you know that."

Gemma nodded. V.'s point was a fair one. Though she herself had no reason to believe that any one of the Sons wouldn't lay down his life for her, she still packed a gun in her purse, one in her car, and had a half-dozen hidden in her house. And for V., who hadn't ever had anybody she could really trust to have her back, it would be even scarier. She felt a surge of irritation at Clay for not realizing what it would do to V. to disarm her.

Suddenly embarrassed, V. turned back to her work. "Anyway, it's nothing to worry about," she said.

Two days later, Gemma came into the office and put a small box down in front of V. on the desk. When V. looked up, Gemma spoke. "Don't be stupid about it," she said. "And if anybody asks, I'll tell them you stole it."

Smiling, V. opened the box. Inside was a small handgun—not the sub-compact Beretta she'd turned over to the Sons at the table, but a shiny Baby Glock. Raising questioning eyes at Gemma, she got only a smirk. "It's clean. Keep it that way."

V. didn't argue, just tucked the gun into her bag, feeling safer already.

-0-

Tig snapped the cell phone shut. "Big fight action," he said, nodding. They'd been expecting the call. With all the build up around V.'s and Half-Sack's fights, some out of town interests with deeper pockets were coming around and looking for action to bet on.

"Shit." Clay chewed on his cigar. "Figures this would happen now." It was tempting, of course, to just throw V. back into the ring—she could make them a lot of money. But his instinct told him he was right about her being a target for the ATF, and the fights were something they could pull her in on.

"Why not just let V. fight?" Tig asked. "You really think ATF is gonna try to pop her on that?"

Clay shook his head. "Can't take the chance. Don't know she's loyal. They bring her in after a fight, tell her how much time aggravated assault can carry for an adult…don't know how she'll react."

"If you think she's gonna get picked up for it, then that's one thing," Tig answered. "But she's not gonna roll over on the Club." He nodded. "V.'s word is good." He was almost surprised to hear himself saying it, but knew it was true. She'd have saved herself some hassle had she told the Club about Stahl's pictures of Aisha, but she hadn't done it. She'd had no reason to protect his secret, but she had.

Tig noticed then that Clay was staring at him, a sardonic grin threatening to break out on his face. "Jesus Fucking Christ," he said, shaking his head. "You too?"

"Me too what?" Tig was confused.

"I think I can fuckin' count on you to think with your goddamn head instead of your dick, and then you go and do stupid shit like this." Clay's voice began to rise. "Bad enough when my stupid fuckin' VP gets all wrapped up in pussy, and then another brother gets his head turned around by the same goddamn pussy, but I expect more of you."

"What the fuck are you talkin' about?" Tig's voice was low and angry now. He didn't appreciate being yelled at by the President for no fucking reason.

"You, rubbin' up on V!" Clay rolled his eyes. "Am I the only one left in this goddamn Club who isn't fuckin' her?"

Tig snorted. "Shit. No." He laughed. "No. Jesus. You think I'm fucking V.? Did you miss where the bitch can't stand me?" He broke into what sounded suspiciously like a giggle. "You think I'm fucking V. That's hysterical, man."

Clay remained unamused. "Suddenly defendin' her doesn't strike me as you just feelin' charitable," he said, his face still suspicious.

"It's not charity," Tig said, shrugging. "She's proved her loyalty." He broke into a grin again. "Besides, when the fuck would she have time? She's gotta be pretty busy keepin' Jax and Chibs at each other's throats." He began to laugh again. "You think I'm fucking V." He shook his head.

Clay gave up the line of questioning. Really, if Tig was fucking V. too, he probably didn't want to know.

-0-

_I shouldn't be here_, V. thought. She hadn't intended to come to the Sam Crow party in the Clubhouse, but, not particularly excited by the idea of another sleepless night in her apartment, she'd let Half-Sack convince her to come by. She knew now that it had been a mistake. Around her, the part raged, with Sons and various hangers-on entertaining each other and a bevy of Crow Eaters available to take care of everybody's needs, but at the bar, V. felt very alone.

"You want another drink?" Half-Sack asked, appearing at V.'s side and reaching behind the bar to grab a bottle. She nodded, pushing her glass towards him. Then, suddenly smiling, she got a better idea. "You got any tequila back there?" she asked.

As if he'd heard a dinner bell, Juice popped up behind her. "Did the lady say tequila?" he asked. He wasn't even all that much a fan of the liquor himself, but he'd seen V. get into it before, and it always made for a more exciting evening.

V. grinned at him. "Yep, the lady said tequila. You game?" She then looked at Half-Sack. "How about you, kid? Think you can keep up?"

From across the room, Jax watched as V. expertly set up the shots, then all three of them pounded them. V. had barely swallowed when she stared pouring the next round. After the third round, Half-Sack found an excuse to leave the bar. After the fifth, so did Juice. Jax shook his head. He'd spent his whole life around women who drank, of course, but he'd never known one who did it quite like V. Before he knew what he was doing, he had crossed the room and sat down next to her.

V. smiled, her face not showing her drunkenness much yet. "Wanna join me?" she asked, motioning to the bottle.

Jax nodded, reaching for it and pouring two more shots. As his took his, he watched her, her lips on the shot glass, her throat moving as she swallowed. He was disgusted at himself, realizing how much it turned him on, how much he wanted those lips around him. Having spent his entire adult life (and much of his teenaged one) getting pretty much any girl he desired, and not thinking much about it afterwards, this type of sometimes-unrequited lust was oddly new to him, and it felt childish. To stop his thoughts, he poured another round.

Jax and V. sat drinking in silence for what seemed like a long time, the party around them sounding farther and farther away. She could feel him watching her and wondered what he was thinking. _Trying to find what's wrong with me?_ she wondered, thinking of their conversation the day Chibs went out of town. The more she drank, the louder his words, and Chibs', echoed in her mind. _Whore. Slut. Used up. Fucking damaged. _The hot liquor did nothing to fill the hole she'd felt all week, just under the scar on her stomach. There, the words churned.

Finally, V. looked up at Jax, unsurprised to find him still looking at her. "Take me to bed," she said. Her voice was low, soft. There was no challenge in it. It was a request.

Jax was shocked at both her words and her tone, but kept composed. Each time they did this dance, it felt a little more familiar, a little less bizarre. This, though, was a new step. With those words, neither of them could even pretend they'd just gotten carried away. "That's really probably not a good idea," he drawled, hearing the intoxication in his voice more than he actually felt it. Looking at V., he could see she was truly drunk now too. She didn't slur her words or fall off her stool, but her body was held unusually loosely, artificially relaxed, and her eyes looked glassy.

"Trust me," she smiled. "I've had worse ideas."

He smiled back in spite of himself. _That I can certainly believe_, he thought. He knew there was no point in trying to turn her down—he wanted her too much, and the tequila was excellent at washing his doubts away. He nodded. "OK darlin'," he said. "Whatever you want."

It wasn't until V. took off her shirt that Jax began to worry. The faded bruises on her face were so well covered with makeup he'd been able to completely forget them, but the darker marks that crossed her back were undeniable. When his fingers stopped unclasping her bra, V. realized what he must be seeing and sighed. _Please, Jax, she thought. Don't make a big thing of it. We so don't need to talk about this_. But having seen the marks in her mirror that morning, she knew how bad they looked and she knew it was already too late.

"Jesus." Jax stopped touching her completely, sitting back on the bed. She turned to face him. "Is that…is that what you want?"

V. looked at him levelly, gauging how open he'd be to a real response. Deciding she had nothing to lose, she nodded. "Sometimes, yeah."

"With me…" he trailed off. "Was this what you were trying to get me to do?"

V. considered the question. She realized, and would have laughed if the situation had been different, that this was likely one of the first times anybody had ever made Jax Teller feel inadequate in bed. "Not really," she said. "That," she jerked her head to indicate her back, "wasn't about sex." She hoped he wouldn't inquire further, both because she didn't want to talk about it with him and because she still wasn't quite sure what Chibs' attack had been about.

"I won't hit you." Jax's eyes looked angry and determined, as if someone was trying to make him do something he was dead set against.

"I know." She smiled. "I don't want you to." He looked confused, so she continued. "If I was looking to get hurt, I wouldn't come to you. That's not what you give me." She sighed. "Look, you know I'm not gonna make promises, and if I weren't fucking drunk, I wouldn't even be saying this much. But tonight, all I want is you. I want…"she trailed off, surprised at how hard it was to say.

"You want what?" He moved slightly towards her, something in her face telling him that she was hurting.

She looked up at him, her eyes troubled. "I want you to love me," she said. She heard Chibs' voice in her head. _I don't love you. Nobody loves you. _

Jax couldn't hide his surprise. For months it had been clear that the last thing V. wanted to hear was that he loved her. He wanted to question this sudden change of heart, but her face told him to take it for what it was.

"I do love you," he said, reaching towards her and running his thumb down the side of her face. "There's no fucking way I'd put up with you otherwise."

She smiled then, thankful for his levity. Slowly, she rose from the bed, and as he watched, she undressed. When her clothes were all on the floor, she slipped the cut from his shoulders, then unbuttoned his shirt. When he stood to remove his pants, she laid down on her back on the bed, keeping her bruises out of his line of sight.

"Open your eyes," he said, pushing inside her. "Tell me this is what you want."

She moaned, tilting her head back so he could kiss her neck. "Yes," she said breathily. "This is what I want."


	30. Chapter 30

_This chapter picks up where Indijane leaves off in Chapter 11 of Hidden (.net/s/5983328/11/Hidden). The Club is gathered in the Clubhouse the morning after the party and Tig brings Aisha in, then Chibs returns from his run. If it's not making sense, please go read that one first. Thanks!_

Chibs took a deep breath. "Holy shit," he said. "Gone a few days and all fuckin' 'ell breaks loose." He smothered the bizarre elation he was feeling at the idea that V. wasn't actually fucking Tig and forced himself to focus on the situation at hand, looking curiously at the tiny dark-haired girl standing in Tig's shadow_. Jesus, she was a baby. Cute, though._ He shook his head. _Leave it to fuckin' Tig. _Chibs smiledat her. "Nice to have you," he said. "We can always use more pretty girls around here."

Aisha stared at Chibs, not responding. She was mildly curious about the scars on his face, her fingers automatically finding the ones at her own temple. Tig tightened his grip on Aisha's shoulder, stepping towards Chib and glaring. Every time one of his brothers spoke to Aisha it made his skin crawl.

Chibs turned his attention to V., who was watching the whole scene quietly from her barstool, the only one not surprised by Aisha's introduction. "You look like shit," he said, his voice conversational.

V. nodded. "Tequila," she muttered, looking at her coffee.

"Needed to get drunk when you realized Tig was your neighbor?" Chibs laughed.

She rolled her eyes. "No. I already knew."

_She already knew? _Chibs couldn't hide the surprise on his face. "You knew?"

V. nodded, her eyes still turned downward.

Momentarily forgetting about their audience, he grabbed V.'s chin and made her look up. "You knew I'd seen Tig at your place, and you didn't tell me why he was fuckin' there?" His voice was bewildered.

"What?" V. looked confused. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

Across the room, Tig began to laugh. At first, it was just a chuckle, but then it turned into his maniacal hooting. "Let me take a guess," he said between snickers. "You saw my bike in the lot at V.'s. And you drew the wrong conclusion?"

V.'s eyes widened. She looked at Chibs. "You thought I was fucking Tig?" She too began to laugh. "Jesus Christ."

V. and Tig exchanged a look across the room, both of them laughing, and each of them laughing harder seeing how amused the other was. Slowly, the others in the room began to realize what had happened. Bobby began to chuckle. Even Jax looked a little bit amused. Suddenly, Tig stopped laughing. "Wait a minute," he said, turning back to Chibs. "You beat V. up. You thought I was hittin' her, and you beat her up." He looked at V. "And you let him. You didn't rat me out. You took a beatin' behind it."

V. rolled her eyes. "I didn't know what he was on about," she said, trying to brush it off. "It's no big deal."

"Jesus Fucking Christ," Gemma's snarly voice broke in. "When did this Club start bein' about fucking children and beatin' women?" She got up from her chair. "Come on," she jerked her head towards V. "We got work to do." With V. following her, she left the Clubhouse.

Aisha was slightly relieved when Gemma left the room. As much as the room full of men intimidated her, the long-nailed, sharp-tongued woman had been the worst of it so far. She was less excited to see V. go. Whatever had happened between her and the man with the scarred face, she'd protected Tig, which put her right with Aisha. Now that V. and Gemma were gone, though, the attention turned back to her.

Jax spoke softly, as if he was addressing a child. "Are you OK with staying here?" He ignored Tig's glare and focused on Aisha. "You don't have to do it just because he's telling you to."

Just as Tig was about to tell Jax to mind his own fucking business, Aisha spoke. Her volume was low, but her voice was strong. "I'm not a prisoner," she said. Jax was briefly taken aback. She sounded…annoyed? "Whatever he wants is fine." When she said "he" there was something else in her tone, almost reverence.

Jax turned to Tig, who was sneering. "I don't know how the fuck you convinced this girl that whatever you want is fine, but the Club does not need to be involved in any creepy stat rape…"

Clay cut him off. "Cool down," he said to Jax. Then, to Aisha,"you're legal, right?"

Aisha nodded.

"So no stat rape." Clay nodded. To Tig, he continued, "the rest of this, the part where you have a hidden apartment with a teenager in it for five fuckin' years, we're gonna have to talk about later. But for now, you're right. With Stahl sniffin' around, we gotta keep things close." He looked at Aisha. "You're safe here. You need anything, talk to Gemma." Then he turned towards the Church. "We gotta have a talk about this fight tonight."

Jax scowled, but didn't argue. If nothing else, the girl would probably be safer here than alone at some hide-out of Tig's. God, the whole thing was just fucking creepy. The rest of the Sons followed Clay out of the room.

Unsure what she should do, and having been given no instructions before Tig left the room, Aisha stayed where he'd left her, looking around nervously. She hadn't previously noticed the young man behind the bar, and he didn't follow the others out.

"Hey," the young man said. "I'm Half…I'm Kip."

Aisha nodded, not saying anything.

"You want me to show you where Tig's room is?" He walked towards her, moving towards the bags as if to pick one up. Instantly, Aisha moved her body in between Half-Sack and the bags.

"Don't touch those."

Half-Sack backed up, raising his hands in mock innocence. "OK." _Wow, this girl was something else._ "Well, do you want some coffee or something?"

She shook her head, still looking at him suspiciously. _Why wasn't he in the other room with the rest of the men,_ she wondered? She hadn't seen or heard any of them ask him to watch her.

"Do you want to sit down?" Half-Sack motioned towards the nearest barstool. He seemed determined to help her somehow, make her comfortable. It only made her more uncomfortable.

Luckily, the meeting was brief. As the Sons filed out of Church, each of them noticed Aisha was still standing just where Tig had left her. Only Tig himself seemed not to take note of this oddity. "C'mon," he said, jerking his head at her and lifting one of the duffel bags. She followed him wordlessly, bent slightly under the weight of the other bag.

After the two of them were out of earshot, Opie spoke first. "Is it just me," he asked, "or was that just really fucking bizarre?"

One by one, the rest of the guys began to smile, then laugh. The whole situation was bordering on the absurd. Tig had a secret hidden woman, for not weeks or month, but years, and she was a tiny, silent teenager who did exactly what he said? The more they thought about it, looking at each other, the funnier it was.

When Tig opened the door to his room, Aisha looked around quickly but said nothing. Unlike the apartment, the room was a disaster, with magazines and bottles and cigarette butts and clothes scattered everywhere. As soon as the door shut behind them, he pushed her to her knees. She dropped the bag she was holding and cast her eyes down. For the first time since they'd left the apartment, things felt right.

"This has gotta be quick," he muttered, unzipping his pants. Thought he'd hated to have to bring her here, he'd wanted her badly since the moment they'd arrived. Seeing the other Sons look at her, appraise her body and her youth, he'd felt a strange pride of ownership, manifesting as desire. He wrapped his hand tightly in her hair and pushed her face in, forcing her to take him all the way down her throat. She knew how he liked it and complied instantly. He leaned over her, his other hand holding himself up against the door, trapping her head between himself and the door, thrusting into her mouth.

After he'd come, he zipped his pants back up quickly, leaning briefly against the door to find his breath. After he had, he pushed Aisha out of the way with his foot. "Stay here," he instructed. "I got things to do."

Though she wanted to ask what she should do, Aisha kept silent. He seemed distracted now, his mind back with the Club.

As he was opening the door, Tig looked back at her and nearly smiled. "Clean this shit up," he said, motioning to the mess around her. Then he was gone.


	31. Chapter 31

_Still following Indijane's story, Hidden, so if you aren't reading that, go do it. This begins after her chapter 12 (.net/s/5983328/12/Hidden). There's a fight, V.'s not fighting, V. and Chibs go together. _

-0-

When V. and Chibs arrived, the warehouse where the fights were held was only half-full. The night had apparently gotten started late, as the women's fights were only just beginning and there wasn't much ringside action yet. If there had been more going on, Jax likely wouldn't have seen them walking in together, or noticed the wet hair that gave away the stop they'd made at V.'s apartment so she could change. Certainly, had he already been making the rounds and placing bets, Jax wouldn't have observed that V. didn't move away from Chibs' hand on her back, or that when he said something close to her ear, she laughed. _Just last night,_ Jax thought, _she was in my bed. Just last night she wanted to hear that I love her. And tonight, she's completely gone. How is that possible?_

Neither V. nor Chibs noticed Jax watching them. By the time they'd left her apartment, they'd come to what seemed, for the moment, to be a truce. Chibs' words wouldn't fade from V.'s mind anytime soon, but she'd told herself, while on the back of his bike with the wind whipping by her, that she wasn't going to worry about it now. There was always time to worry later.

Now there was a more pressing issue. The first person V. and Chibs ran into was the one she most had hoped to avoid. She hadn't been face-to-face with Happy since the night he'd rejected her advances, and she'd been hoping to keep it that way. Here he was, though, back from whatever ride he'd been on. He said hello to Chibs, then looked at her, briefly but intently. More stubborn than she was ashamed, V. stared back. Seeing the defiance in her eyes, her refusal to apologize or even acknowledge what had last happened between them, he smiled and nodded imperceptibly. _Good girl._

After they'd chatted for a few minutes, Chibs filling Happy in on what was known about the Stahl situation, then regaling him the story of Aisha's surprise appearance and installation at the Clubhouse, V. remembered an idea she'd had. Now was as good a time as any, she figured. "Hey Hap," she asked, "did you happen to bring your needles this trip?"

Happy raised an eyebrow. "Sure. I always have 'em. Never know when you're gonna need a new smiley face. Why? You want ink?"

V. nodded. "Somethin' I need to get done, and I'd like you to do it."

Happy widened his eyes, looking from V. to Chibs and back again. "No shit? You're gettin' his crow?" He was floored. Never in a million years had he expected a crow on V., and certainly not in only a few weeks' time.

"Jesus Christ," V exploded. "No, I am not getting a fucking crow. This is somethin' else." Chibs fought to remain impassive. He'd never even thought of putting a crow on V., but he hated that she was so vociferously against it.

Happy raised his hands. "OK, OK, sorry. Yeah, sure, I'll ink you."

Just as V. was about to ask Happy if he could do it the next day, Jax, Tig, and Clay joined the group. "Fight schedule is all fucked," Jax said. "Gonna be at least an hour before the Prospect's up." The men scowled. None of them liked waiting, and there was little for entertainment in the warehouse, but it wasn't worth the ride back to Charming just to come back, either.

Happy looked at V. "Looks like we got time to kill," he said. "You wanna get that tat now?"

V. smiled. "Sure. You want me to go get your gear?"

Happy nodded and tossed her his keys. "Saddlebag," he said as she walked off.

A few minutes later, V. was back, holding Happy's bag of tattooing equipment. By that time, Bobby and Opie had joined the group. "What are we doing?" Happy asked, taking the bag from her.

V. leaned over, pulling up the leg of her jeans and tugging the knife from her boot holster. "This." She handed it to Happy. They'd all seen it before. The knife King Leo had used to cut out V.'s baby. The knife she'd used to kill him.

"That whole thing about not carryin' anymore weapons didn't really sink in, did it?" Clay asked dryly.

"Knife's not illegal," V. answered.

"It's a fuckin' murder weapon," Tig hissed, shaking his head. His respect for V. might be increasing, but she could still be a really stupid bitch.

"Yeah." V. looked at Tig, then let her gaze roam from face to face, making sure she caught the eye of every one of the men. "And it's mine. Once it's on me permanently, maybe I won't have to carry it anymore." V.'s face dared any of them to challenge that decision. When nobody said anything, she turned back to Happy.

Happy was half-smiling. He'd been worried, the last time he'd been here, seeing the too-thin, jumpy, desperate V. The V. he was seeing tonight was still volatile, still dangerous, but she looked to be far closer to the woman he'd met on the first Oregon run, the one who'd stood up and told a room full of bikers that she wasn't anybody's bitch. He glanced briefly at Chibs. _I have no idea how much of this is your doing,_ he thought, _but good for you._

Happy led V, to a line of folding chairs to the side of the room, the rest of the group following, out of a lack of anything better to do. V. sat down and, to the amazement of all the watching men, pulled her shirt over her head. "I want it here," she said, running her fingers over her scarred belly.

The group was quiet for a moment, concentrated in part on V.'s bra-clad breasts, and in part of the gruesome scar. With the exception of Jax and Chibs, none of them had seen it since the day she'd stripped to her sports bra to fight with Half-Sack, and it was less subtle in real life than in memory.

Happy reached out and ran his fingers down the scar. Though she tried to hide it, V. felt herself shiver slightly under his touch. "I can't tattoo over that," he said. "Professional could, maybe."

V. shook her head. "Next to it is OK," she said.

Happy moved hid fingers over slightly, running them parallel to the scar. "How big?"

"Real size."

Happy smiled, turning the knife over in his hands. "Lay down."

V. laid across three chairs. Happy laid the knife against her stomach, moving it a couple of times to figure out just where he wanted to put it. He didn't ask her opinion and she didn't offer it. He left it there while he fussed with his equipment, unwrapping a needle and opening the ink. She didn't move, lying still as a statue, the knife next to the scar on her belly. Chibs looked down at her face, but her eyes were far away.

"Going to hurt," Happy said, picking the knife up from her stomach and moving it up to lie across her rib cage, balanced where he could see it.

V. met Happy's eyes. "It's supposed to," she said.

He nodded. "Don't talk." His face was concentrated as he began the outline. She held her breath, the initial sting of the needle surging through her. She closed her eyes and let her head tip back against the cold metal chair, The heat radiated from the needle pulsing into her stomach through her body, flushing her chest and making her nipples visible peaks under her bra. When she opened her eyes, all she saw was Happy's face above her, stopping the needle briefly and meeting her eyes. There was something knowing in the way he smirked down at her, but he said nothing, just returned to his task.

As the novelty of V. in her bra wore off, the gathered Sons began to talk amongst themselves, not paying attention to the tattooing process. For V., though, there was nothing in the room but Happy and the needle. She squeezed her eyes closed again, concentrating on keeping her hips from lifting off the chair. Had either Chibs or Jax been watching her face, they'd surely have recognized the expression, the struggle to maintain control of her body in the face of intense stimulation—they'd both seen it. As it was, though, nobody was watching. As Happy shaded the knife's blade, rubbing the needle back and forth over small sections of her flesh, V. sucked her bottom lip in and bit down hard, trying to force her mind away from what was beginning to seem inevitable.

Nearly finished, Happy moved his hand lower on V.'s belly, working on the last of the shading. Quickly, he leaned forward, positioning his mouth near her ear. He rested his hand for only a moment, letting his wrist and forearm fall between her legs. "They aren't watching, "he said in a gruff whisper. "Go ahead."

No sooner had Happy finished the tattoo than the fights began. The Club members dispersed throughout the crowd, each with a bankroll, to place bets and listen for news. V. sat in the chair she'd been lying across, a plastic cup of beer in hand, feeling vaguely embarrassed, but also as if she'd gotten away with something. Her eyes followed the familiar black leather-clad backs of the Sons, watching each of them work the room. She was surprised it could feel so right to be out of the ring, but she felt oddly peaceful watching them.

Just as Half-Sack's fight began, V.'s thoughts were interrupted. V. saw the Feds as soon as they came in the door, but it was too late to warn any of the guys, as they were all out on the floor. V. was on her feet and moving into the crowd immediately, but it was too late. By the time she reached the ring, both Half-Sack and the other fighter were on their knees, hands on the backs of their heads. As V. looked around, she saw the other Sons in the same position, the people around them falling back as the suited men slapped handcuffs to their wrists.

The room was descending into chaos, people running towards the exists, afraid their wild Saturday night was about to land them in jail. The Sons being arrested were all calm, stony faced and silent. V. moved towards where she saw Clay, on his knees. "What do you need me to do?" she asked quietly, counting on the noise of the room to mask her question.

Clay looked at her strangely, surprised by the question. He knew had no real respect for his authority, but she was serious now, ready to take both action and instruction. "The bikes," he said quickly, while the man who had handcuffed him was yelling across the room to another Fed, "get Piney over here with the flat-bed to pick them up. Keep 'em out of impound if this drags out." When V. nodded, he continued. "And let Gemma know this is nothin'. This is just that cunt tryin' to piss me off." V. nodded again, waiting to hear if there were any more directives before turning and walking quickly away.


	32. Chapter 32

Jax and Chibs eyed each other warily across the table. They'd both been in the Charming PD interrogation room before, but never together. In fact, neither of them could ever remember any joint interrogations, making it all the more strange that Agent Stahl had insisted on interviewing them jointly.

Stahl was at the head of the table, shuffling papers. She'd asked a few preliminary questions about the fight, but was really barely making a pretense of being interested in their gambling activities. Instead, she kept giving them long, knowing looks that would have been irritating from anybody, but were intolerable from her. Finally, she smiled her creepy bitch smile, turning towards Jax. "I had a nice talk with your girlfriend the other day." When Jax remained silent, she continued. "Have to say, she doesn't much seem like your type. She's a pretty girl, but a bit hard for you, maybe?"

"No idea what the fuck you're talkin' about," Jax muttered. "I don't have a girlfriend."

"I'm sorry, I forget about your terminology," Stahl replied with false politeness. "Your Old Lady?" She pushed a picture into the middle of the table, making sure both Jax and Chibs had a good view of it. It was the same one she'd showed V., showing the torso of a shirtless Jax poised above V., her head thrown back. V. was smiling, clearly enjoying whatever the photo didn't show. Looking at it, Jax felt oddly violated—he remembered that very time, and he certainly hadn't thought they'd been captured on film. When he looked up, his defiant eyes met not Stahl's, but Chibs'. Chibs was holding his face passive, motionless.

Though Chibs had a pretty good idea of what the picture would show before he ever looked at it, seeing it still struck a nerve. Knowing V. had been with Jax—hell, knowing she'd been with Jax as recently as the night before—was one thing, but seeing it brought up things he'd been able to avoid thinking about. _Did the picture prove that Jax made her happy, while he only made her miserable? _He shook the idea quickly out of his head. This was definitely not the time to dwell on it—this bitch was just trying to get at him.

"She's not my Old Lady," Jax said. He waved a dismissive hand at the picture. "And there's nothin' illegal happenin' there, so I'm thinkin' maybe you just like to watch." He sneered at Stahl.

Stahl remained unflappable. She nodded slowly. "She's not your Old Lady," she repeated. "That makes much more sense. I had been hoping it was something like that. Hate to have been the bearer of bad news." Smiling again, she slid another picture towards them, leaving it right next to the first one. This was the other shot she'd shown V., Chibs kneeling in front of her in the alley by the fight warehouse, his face between her legs.

_Jesus,_ Chibs thought. _Of all the times I've been with V., that's what she photographs. _He glared at Stahl. _Ball busting bitch._ He felt Jax's eyes on him and met his brother's gaze. _C'mon man_, he thought. _It's not like you didn't know. Don't freak out about it here._

"So what?" Chibs asked, nodding towards the picture. "You jealous?" He raised an eyebrow at Stahl and licked his lips suggestively.

"Nice, Mr. Telford," Stahl murmured. Her eyes were on Jax. _I see you, Jax, _she thought. _I'm gonna get to you with this girl, one way or another. _

Chibs stayed quiet, hoping Jax would do the same. If Stahl had anything on them, she wouldn't be trying to jerk them around with this. All they had to do was wait her out. Across the table, though, Jax looked seconds from blowing his top. Though he hoped, for both of their sakes, that Jax could hold his temper, Chibs felt an odd and embarrassing satisfaction. The pretty, charming Jax had likely never had a woman taken away from him before, and though that wasn't really what had happened here, either, it had to be what it felt like.

When neither man spoke, Stahl decided to see if anything would come from a little twist of the knife. "I have to tell you boys, I'm still a little bit confused," she said. "This picture," she tapped her finger on the picture of Chibs and V., "was taken only a couple of days before this one," she tapped the one of V. and Jax. "And to make the whole thing more intriguing, we've had surveillance on Ms. Kramer's apartment since then, and you've both been there. As have other members of your…club." Stahl shook her head. "I never figured you guys for being so big on sharing."

_Stay cool, Jackie boy_, Chibs thought, even as Jax was opening his mouth. _The bitch is just trying to get us at each other._

"Charming's not a big place," Jax said, finally, his voice a bit strained with artificial lightness. "Bound to hit the same chicks occasionally." He shrugged. He forced himself to keep his eyes off the photographs, the image of Chibs and V. having already been burned into his mind. It wasn't, given what he'd inadvertently gathered from their sex life from the marks it left on V.'s body, what he'd expected to see. Somehow, that made it worse. His mind flashed on the night he'd tied to her to the bed—he knew what she tasted like. He hated seeing that Chibs knew, too.

Stahl ran her hand through her hair, trying to think quickly about another angle and hide her frustration at the brick wall she was running up against on this one. She knew they were both bothered by what they were seeing, and could sense Jax was especially upset, but they were also both practiced at this game, and were doing a good job of keeping their real emotions hidden. She didn't have anything solid on either of these guys, but had hoped to use V. to divide them from each other, or divide one of them from the Club. So far, no go. Sighing, she returned to her original line of questioning, about the fights and gambling. A few minutes later, she cut them loose.

Jax and Chibs walked out of the police station together, neither smiling nor speaking. They were the first to be let go. Had Stahl realized what was happening, she certainly would have been at her window, observing their interaction once they were alone. She didn't know they weren't back in the cell waiting for the others, though, so she moved on to a worthless interrogation of Bobby.

Just steps outside the door, Jax turned to Chibs, no longer trying to hide the rage in his face. "This has gone far enough," he said. "We're both gettin' fuckin' played here. I was with her last night. Did you know that?" He was standing too close, trying, even though it might have been subconscious, to be intimidating.

Chibs smiled. Trust Jackie to make this a different storyline than it actually was. "Figured as much," he said. "But we're not gettin' played." He didn't back up, but met Jax's eyes, showing that he wasn't unsettled by the proximity.

"How do you figure?"

"She's not tryin' to hide anything." Chibs lit a cigarette, then tipped the pack towards Jax, who ignored it.

"So you're fine with this?" Jax's voice was incredulous. "You're just fuckin' her, so you don't care what else she does? You don't mind her bein' with me too?"

Chibs shook his head. Even though he was 30 now, Jax was still a kid in so many ways. He just didn't get it. "Doesn't matter if I mind," he said. "It's what she's gonna do. She doesn't want to belong to either of us."

Jax looked surprised. "You want her to be your Old Lady?"

Chibs shrugged. "Dunno. But it wouldn't make a difference if I did. She ain't gonna be mine any sooner than she's gonna be your's."

Jax was quiet. He'd intended, the moment they left the station, to let Chibs have it. To tell him in no uncertain way that whatever twisted relationship he had with V., it was over. But he hadn't expected this.

Exhaling, Chibs spoke again. "Look, Jackie," he said. "You and me gotta get right with this, whatever's gonna happen."

"That an offer to give her up?"

"No."

The two men stared at each other. The situation, they each realized, was even worse than they'd previously thought. Somehow, though neither of them could quite figure out when, they'd both completely lost control. They were at each other's throats, and they both felt powerless to change the circumstances in any way. Neither of them could have V., and neither of them would give her up.

Before either of them could say anything else, Clay and Happy walked out of the station. "That was some bullshit," Clay said, shaking his head. He looked back and forth between Jax and Chibs. "Everything OK out here?"

Both Jax and Chibs nodded, neither of them speaking. Watching them, both Clay and Happy could guess what they'd been talking about. For perhaps the hundredth time that week, Clay kicked himself for ever allowing V. to stay.

"How we gettin' out of here?" Happy asked, lighting a cigarette behind his hand. "Bikes still at the fight."

Clay shook his head. "V.," he said. "Told her to get Piney and have him take the bikes to the shop on the truck." He flipped open his cell. "She or Gemma can bring the van."

An hour later, Tig was the only one left in custody. Though that situation was worrisome, Clay decided it was best to go have a few drinks at the clubhouse and wait. Chibs drove Tig's bike to the station so it would be there when he was released, followed by V. in her car. When they didn't return to the Clubhouse, nobody but Jax even noticed.

-0-

Chibs was surprised when V. automatically scooted over on the bench seat to allow him to drive. The last time they'd been together in her car, it had taken an act of Congress to get her to give up the wheel. Tonight, though, she seemed oddly calm and accepting of whatever was going to happen.

"Where we goin'?" he asked, looking at her. He hated that when he saw her face, the first think he thought of was Jax above her in the photograph.

"Wherever you want," she responded, looking straight at him. "Do you need to go back to the clubhouse?"

Chibs shook his head. "Tomorrow's good enough." He had no desire to deal with the clubhouse tonight—Jax, Tig's hidden teenager, all the drama. He steered the car out to the street, then pointed it out of town.

They rode in silence for several minutes, Chibs thinking about the interrogation and his conversation with Jax, V. thinking about what a long, strange day it had been. She'd been oddly elated to have Clay ask her to help, even with something so simple as coordinating moving the guys' bikes and coming to pick them up at the station. The elation embarrassed her, and she chided herself for being so desperate to be included in the Club. She wondered, too, what Stahl had said to Chibs. His face seemed far away, not angry, but not peaceful, either. She wasn't sure what to expect when they got to wherever they were going.

Though Chibs drove there directly this time, rather than taking a random route through town and country, they ended up in the same place they had the first night he'd taken her riding on his bike. When they stopped and Chibs killed the engine, they continued to sit in silence for several moments before V. finally spoke. "Everything go OK with Stahl?"

Chibs smirked. "She's got nothin'."

V. nodded. "Good. The gambling stuff shouldn't get more than a fine, if that."

"Had some photos to show us, though." Chibs hadn't been intending to tell V. about seeing the pictures and was surprised to hear it come out of his mouth.

V. inhaled sharply. _Goddamn that woman._ "And?"

Chibs looked across at her, his face impatient. "What the fuck do you want me to say, V.? That I like seein' you with other men? I don't. Makes me want to throw you through the fuckin' windshield."

"So do it. I'm right fucking here."

"Will it help?"

"No." She smiled. "But it will make you feel better."

He knew, even as he lunged towards her, that if V. was playing him, as Jax had said, this was the way she was doing it. There was no dishonesty, just the challenge she always laid down, her dare to him to do something about it if he was pissed off. And him knowing that nothing he could was doing to bother her in the least. _I guess it's fun to keep trying,_ he though darkly, opening the car door on her side and shoving her out onto the ground.

In only moments, he had her bent over the hood of the car, both their jeans shoved down to their knees. As he pounded into her, he squeezed the bruises that were still visible from the last time he'd been angry with her, and created new ones, pushing her body over and over again into the steel hood of the Charger.

"I fuckin' hate you," he growled in her ear, pulling her head back by her hair to make sure she could hear him. "You're an ugly, greedy bitch." He shoved her face into the car hood, holding it down with his other hand. His fingers under her shirt found first one nipple piercing and then the other, squeezing hard. He lowered his hand then, running it over her scar and the new tattoo beside it. "You're not even a real woman," he muttered. "All cut up, can't make babies." He heard his own words and hated himself, both for trying to hurt her and for not being able to do it. Under him, though, he felt the tension of her muscles, fighting not against him, but against impending climax. "You're just a gash," he said, pounding into her with all his might now, knowing it would be over soon, "with nothin' inside. You're a vacant, empty, whore."

When Chibs let her up, V. righted herself quickly, tossing away her ruined underwear and pulling up her jeans. With the headlights still shining, Chibs saw a new bruise forming above her eye, where her head had hit the hood. Her face was calm and empty. She said nothing, just got back into the passenger side of the car and waited for him to take her home. When he did, she took his hand and led him to her apartment, where he slept fitfully beside her.


	33. Chapter 33

_Switching off with Indiejane again! This chapter follows her Hidden Chapter 14 (.net/s/5983328/14/Hidden). Be sure to read that first!_

-0-

Jax thought he knew a lot about women. He'd had a way with them since he was a teenager, and had rarely been mistaken in figuring out how to get to a girl's heart—or into her pants. He'd always assumed that girls were kind of his "gift," and that it wasn't just his good looks and position of power in the MC, but his understanding how they thought that let him to do so well with them. Lately, though, he wondered if he was losing his touch—V. sure didn't make a whole hell of a lot of sense, and every time he thought he had a handle on what she wanted he was blind-sided. And now this?

This. Watching Aisha, who'd sat up in the hall all night because he'd thrown her out of his room so he could fuck a sweetbutt, light up when Tig walked into the room, watching her relax into his arms—it didn't jive with anything Jax knew about women. His incredulity only increased as he watched her instantly take up what could only be a routine learned over time. Tig sat down at the bar. Aisha walked into the kitchen, poured him a cup of coffee, carefully stirred in two-and-a-half teaspoons of sugar, and brought it to him. As he drank it, she stood just behind him and to his left. Tig ignored her, talking to Clay about something, but the moment the coffee in his cup was below the halfway mark, Aisha held her hand out. Without so much as looking at her, he handed her the cup and she went to refill it. She didn't say a word to him, nor him to her, but she moved with purpose now, taking two muffins from a plate on the counter, splitting them open, watching them intently while they were in the toaster oven, and pulling them out with bare fingers when they were perfectly browned. While he ate them, she again took the place at his left shoulder, waiting.

As he'd sat next to Aisha in the hall, Jax had wondered what would happen when Tig came out. The bastard was crazy—he wouldn't put much past him. He'd pictured the volatile Tig dragging the girl out by her hair, telling her she couldn't stay here. He'd pictured Aisha crying and begging Tig never to do that to her again. He'd even pictured Aisha standing up for herself, kicking Tig straight in the balls, like V. probably would have done. Never in his wildest imagination, though, had he thought Tig and Aisha would act like a fucking 50s sitcom couple, her catering to his every need.

"Where the fuck is Chibs?" Clay asked. "We gotta sit down about this fight bust."

"Didn't come back after he dropped Tig's bike off," Juice said, giving Jax a sideways look. "Probably at V.'s."

Jax's face tightened, but he didn't say anything. He tried to shake the image from his head, but he couldn't help but see the picture Stahl had shown them in his mind. _Goddamn V!_ He felt his temper rise.

"Get him here," Clay muttered, stomping out of the room. A moment later, Tig rose and followed him, sparing Aisha not a glance as he left the room.

Jax and Bobby exchanged a glance. What were they supposed to do with this girl? As they watched, she took Tig's plate and coffee cup to the sink, washed them, and put them carefully in the dish drainer. After that was done, she looked around, insecurity creeping back into her face. Bobby shook his head and left the room.

"Why don't you sit down and have some breakfast, darlin'?" Jax asked, hating the expression on her face and wanting to make her feel more at home. He smiled and patted the seat next to him.

Aisha looked at him suspiciously. _What does he want?_ she wondered. He'd shown the most interest in her of all the guys, and she wasn't sure she liked it. Though he'd never really said anything about it, she could sense that Tig didn't like him. Still, she wasn't sure what else to do, so she poured herself a cup of coffee, then came around the counter and sat next to him.

Jax looked at her intently, his face open and friendly. Though it had been mostly unconscious, he had this expression down to a science—tough, but open, somehow sensitive, and most importantly, interested in her. "So," he said, keeping his voice intentionally low and light, as she looked as if she'd be easily spooked, "where are you from?"

Aisha didn't answer for a moment. "Up north," she finally said, not meeting Jax's eyes.

He nodded, finding himself momentarily at a loss for words. _What do you say to a girl Tig has apparently had hidden in a tower since she was a fuckin' preteen?_ he wondered. Before he could think of anything else to say, he heard the clubhouse door swing open.

"Hey," V. said, approaching the bar. She nodded towards Jax, but her attention was on Aisha. "I hoped I'd find you in here. You doin' OK?"

Jax felt anger surge through him as he looked at V. If he wasn't mistaken, there was a new bruise on the side of her face, though at least this time she'd made some attempt to cover it up.

"I'm fine," Aisha answered, looking slightly relieved to no longer be alone with Jax.

"Good." V. noticed Aisha's clothes were the same ones she'd worn the day before. "Did you bring any of your own stuff? I can go by your place and pick some clothes up for you if you need me to."

"Jesus," Jax interrupted, looking away from V. for the first time since she'd walked in and turning back to Aisha. "The bastard didn't let you bring any clothes?"

Aisha smiled, ignoring Jax. "Thanks," she said to V., "but I'm fine."

"OK," V. said, shrugging. "Your call." She walked towards the kitchen, where Jax could see her pouring a cup of coffee.

"Rough night?" Jax couldn't help but ask as V. returned, cradling her coffee cup.

She looked at him with little surprise. "Don't ask questions you don't want answers to, Jax," she said, not looking back as she slammed the door behind her.

Jax's fist hit the bar with a thud. "Goddamn bitch," he muttered. When he looked up, he saw Aisha eyeing him curiously. "What?"

Aisha said nothing. She wondered about V. She knew, from living below her, that V. was sleeping with both Jax and Chibs. What she couldn't figure out was who, if any of them, was happy with that arrangement. She felt a bit sorry for Jax, though, who seemed both so hurt and so mystified.

Aisha continued to watch Jax, albeit from lowered eyes, when his phone rang and he flipped it open and answered with a curt "yeah?"

"Jax, it's Hale. I think we may have a problem."

"Yeah? What's that?"

"There's a young girl…a teenager. Apparently, her mother was killed a few years ago up in Humboldt—found beaten to death with her shot-up pimp. Stahl thinks Trager was involved, and that he has the girl stashed somewhere…and I'm pretty sure she told him that."

"Jesus Fucking Christ." Jax tipped his head back, not sure what to think about what the Deputy Chief was telling him.

"If that's true, she's in danger, Jax." Hale paused. "You know what he's capable of."

Jax looked at Aisha. _God, she's so young._ He thought of Donna, on the ground in a puddle of blood, then of the teenaged witness he'd pulled Tig off the night before her funeral. He had no doubt Tig would have killed that girl. Aisha was not going to be another of Tig's victims.

Hanging up the phone, Jax looked at Aisha intently. Part of him wanted to tell her, make sure she knew that the asshole to whom she was slavishly serving coffee only an hour before had likely beat her mother to death. But maybe she knew already? Maybe the threat of the same fate was how Tig kept her so devoted?

"You know," Jax said, turning towards her and again making sure she knew she had his full attention, his blue eyes never moving from her face, "you don't have to do this. If you want out, I'll help you."

Irritation flitted across Aisha's features. "I don't want out." Though her voice didn't rise in volume, it did take on an edge of defiance. "I already told you. I'm not a prisoner."

Jax shook his head. "There's no reason for you to put up with his shit," he said, trying a different tactic. "You're young, pretty," he looked her up and down brazenly, making no attempt to hide his admiration. "You don't deserve to be treated so badly." As he spoke, he moved closer to her on his stool, struck with the realization of how small she really was. _I've been spending too much time with V.,_ he thought distractedly, _I must have forgotten what real women, fragile women, are like._ He leaned his head in towards hers, lowering his voice to something just above a conspiratorial whisper, and put one of his big hands over both of her small ones on the bar. "Let me help you."

Aisha was trying to figure out how to extricate herself without being rude, to move away form Jax's concerned eyes, when she heard Tig's heavy boot steps. When she looked up, he was coming towards them, clearly having already taken in the whole scene. The look on his face would mean nothing to anyone else, even Jax, who had known him for decades. It brought Aisha's stomach into her throat.


	34. Chapter 34

_This chapter directly follows indiejane's Hidden Chapter 15 (.net/s/5983328/15/Hidden). _

-0-

About a block away from the address Clay had given him, Chibs pulled his bike to the curb. As V. pulled up behind him, he watched her in his side mirror. In jeans and a wife beater he was pretty sure was his, her long hair loose under her helmet, there was no way anybody would mistake her for another guy riding along with him. Chibs tried to remember the last time he'd seen a woman handle a bike, but his mind came up blank. He'd definitely never seen a woman coming along on this type of errand. Seeing V. behind him, though, didn't feel as odd as he would have expected. When she dismounted the bike and pulled off the helmet, he thought not of her tight body trembling beneath him, but of the night she'd killed King Leo, not shooting him, though she held a gun in her hands, but slicing his jugular. He'd been hung up lately, on her pain and her vulnerability and what he thought she needed, but he'd seen her in the ring—he'd be lying to himself if he didn't realize that a large part of it was that the bitch was simply bloodthirsty.

"So what's the plan?" V. was smiling as she approached Chibs' bike, the sun playing off her hair and the lens of her sunglasses. Though he knew it was stupid to mix business and pleasure, he couldn't help but pull her down towards him, kissing her hard before he let her up and got off his bike. She didn't' say anything, but smiled.

"No plan, princess," he said. "We got in there and have a little talk with this Nazi fuck." He habitually pulled the gun from his shoulder holster, checked it, then returned it, then did the same with the knife at his belt. When he looked up, he saw V. was slipping the knife from her boot into her waistband. Then, incredulous, he watched as she pulled a small Glock from the back of her jeans.

"You're not supposed to be carryin'," he growled, grabbing the pistol from her hand and looking at it. "Where did you get this?"

Even though her sunglasses covered her eyes, Chibs knew was rolling them. "Like I'm fuckin' goin' in there with no gun."

He felt his irritation rise. "I'm not gonna let you get hurt."

He saw her get pissed off at his words, the anger flash across her features, but then she surprised him. She smiled broadly. "Good," she said, grabbing the gun back from him and tucking it back into her jeans. "I'm not gonna let you get hurt either." With that, she turned and walked towards the house. Shaking his head, he followed her.

Once they arrived at the rundown house, Chibs was again surprised. V. hung back, allowing him to enter in front of her. He heard her remove the pistol from her waistband and click off the safety, and knew she was right behind him. As it turned out, though, their precautions were unnecessary—the man they were looking for was home alone, and they found him passed out on his ratty sofa, beer bottle still in hand.

"Wake up, you skinhead fuck," Chibs yelled, landing a boot on the man's bare foot. He shot up, grabbing around him desperately for a weapon. Before he could land on anything, though, Chibs had his gun against the man's temple. "Would hold still, if I were you."

V. tucked her Glock back into her waistband before approaching the sofa. As she looked the man up and down, she smiled slowly. He was in boxers, his pasty chest bare and covered in Nazi-inspired tattoos. She looked quickly as Chibs, who nodded slightly. _Go for it_, he thought. I_ just wanna watch._

Before she spoke, V. hit the man in the face, quickly and at full strength. His nose spurted immediately, dripping down his face and onto his chest. "Fuck," he yelled, putting a hand instinctively to his face. "What the fuck was that for?"

V. grinned. "That was a warm-up," she said. "Here's how this is gonna go. I'm gonna ask you a question. If I don't like your answer, I'm going to break your nose. If I like your answer, I'm probably gonna break your nose anyway, but maybe at the end he won't shoot you."

Chibs couldn't help but smile. She was fucking enjoying this. Good God.

"Why would I answer questions from a cunt?" the man asked, sneering at V. through the blood on his face.

"I was hoping you'd ask that," V. replied, still looking cheerful. Again she moved quickly, this time lifting not her arm but her leg, landing a hard kick to the man's stomach. He doubled over, moaning. "That one didn't hit your kidney," V. said. "The next one will." She leaned over and pulled the man's face up. "Do you have any more questions?"

When he said nothing, V. nodded. "Good, good," she said. "Now. Let's talk about the fight last night. You weren't there. Why is that?"

"Dunno," the man mumbled. "Didn't feel like it."

V. smiled again. "Seriously?" She looked at Chibs and held out her hand. "Can I borrow that?" she asked. He raised his eyebrow and handed her his revolver, butt first. She flipped it in her hand, holding it by the barrel, and hit the handle against the man's temple with a crack. Before she handed it back to Chibs, she wiped the bloody handle carefully on the front of her shirt.

"OK," V. said. "That was all my patience. I'm going to ask again, and the next time you disappoint me, it's actually gonna hurt. Did you know the fight was going to get raided last night? Wait—before you answer, I want to make sure you understand. I think you're a piece of shit. I would have absolutely no fucking problem beating you to death. So probably you shouldn't continue to irritate me."

The man was silent for a moment. Just as it was beginning to seem V. was going to need to escalate the situation again, he spoke. "Got a call," he said. "Foreign guy. Explained the ATF was interested in Sam Crow. Made it worth my while to help them out."

V. looked at Chibs. "You buyin' this?"

Chibs nodded. "Maybe." He nudged the man's bloody face with his gun barrel. "Who was the call from?"

"Dunno."

"That's one of those answers I don't like," V said. This time she directed her punch at the middle of the man's face, and Chibs heard his nose crunch. "What did I tell you about that?"

"Goddammit," the man yelled, spitting blood. "I don't know!"

"Oh for Christ's sake," V. said, shaking her head. "You just aren't very smart, are you?" She pulled the knife from her waistband, holding it in front of the man's face, then lowering it, holding it inches above his groin. "Think real hard about who the man on the phone was, OK? Cuz I'd hate to have to take your balls with me."

The man's face turned pale under the blood. He realized by this point—as did Chibs—that she was very likely to do it. "He was Russian, said he was connected," the man blurted, his words tripping over each other.

Chibs watched V.'s face change, the smile falling. She swallowed quickly. "Russian?" she said. "You sure?"

The man nodded, nearly cowering, the knife still precariously close to his crotch.

"Why do they have a beef with Sam Crow?" Chibs asked, sensing that it might be a good time to take over for V.

The man didn't take his eyes off V. as he answered Chibs' question. "Somethin' about a murder," he said. Then he squealed. "Fuck, I'm talkin'! Don't!"

Looking down, Chibs saw that V had brought the knife up to the man's stomach, pressing the blade into his flesh hard enough to begin to draw blood. "V?" he said, getting her attention.

"What?" She looked up at him.

"This piece of shit has told us all he knows," he nodded towards her knife.

"Yeah, I have," the man said, breathing quickly. "No need to cut me."

V. laughed. "Who said I needed to?" she asked. "Maybe I just want to." She pushed the knife against him a bit harder, eliciting a whimper from him. Then she drew the knife away, holding it questioningly in front of his face, as if she was deciding where to put it next.

"You're fucking crazy!" the man said.

_That she is,_ Chibs thought. He kept his eyes on V. _Don't do it, darlin'. No need._

The grin returned to V.'s face. "You really ought to keep your mouth shut," she said. She tucked the knife back into her waistband. Just as Chibs thought she was going to back away, she hit the man again. Then a second time. He was just her punching bag now, and Chibs watched her for a few seconds, bloodying the man's face more with each strike. He was leaning slightly over now, losing consciousness. She wasn't stopping.

Finally, Chibs stepped forward, grabbing one of V.'s fists. "Come on princess," he said softly. "He's out. You're gonna kill him." She didn't seem to hear him, hitting the man against with the fist he hadn't grabbed. He put a strong hand on her shoulder. "Come on, baby," he pulled her back into his chest. "No more."

V. didn't look at him, but allowed him to pull her away from the couch. Her fists and the front of her shirt were covered with blood. Chibs took another look at the man on the sofa. He clearly wasn't going anywhere for a while. "Let's go," he said, steering V. out of the house by her elbow. She didn't argue.


	35. Chapter 35

By the time he and V. were back to the Clubhouse, Chibs couldn't wipe the smile off his face. It may have gotten a little sketchy at the end, but watching V. in action had been amazing. The girl wasn't posing—she was tough as hell. If he'd have been the Nazi on the sofa, he'd have been scared shitless. Jumping off his bike, he pulled V. off the Prospect's, wrapping his arms around her and lifting her off the ground. "You are so fuckin' hot," he muttered in her ear. "I want to lay you down right here." He put her down and kissed her as he pushed her backwards, towards the garage wall. Breaking away slightly, he bit her bottom lip. "Violent bitch, you are," he said, boosting her up again when her back hit the wall so that she could wrap her legs around his waist. "Sexiest woman I ever fuckin' seen." He smashed her up against the wall, cupping her ass in his hands.

Jax had stormed out of the Clubhouse and was halfway to his bike when he saw them. He couldn't have believed this day could piss him off any more, but that certainly did it. Not only had Clay sent V. out on something she had no business doing, he'd named Chibs her handler. And they were obviously both taking to that arrangement. He tried to make himself continue his path to his bike and ignore them, but he couldn't do it. "Jesus Fucking Christ!" he yelled.

Chibs let V. down, but kept his arms around her. "Problem, Jackie?" he asked, unable to completely keep the smirk from his face.

"Clay's waitin' on you," Jax said, his eyes blazing.

"Better not keep him waitin'," Chibs said cheerfully. Releasing V., he headed towards the Clubhouse door.

As she walked towards the Clubhouse, Jax noticed the blood on V.'s shirt and spattered on her hands and arms. Though he felt sick, and knew he really didn't want to know, he followed her inside.

As they entered the Clubhouse, the conversation halted. "Jesus," Clay said, looking at the blood on V.'s shirt. He turned towards Chibs. "Tell me we don't have to talk about how to get rid of a body."

Chibs laughed. "Nah." He grinned at V. "She let him live. Bastard probably wishes he was dead, though. She sure convinced him to talk."

"Why the fuck was V. the one doin' the convincing?" Jax asked. He looked at V., his face twisted in disgust, then grabbed one of her hands. Her knuckles were split and bloody. He nodded towards Chibs, showing him V.'s hands. "You let her do this? Way to keep her on a short leash."

"Hey," V. jerked her hand away from Jax. "What the fuck? I'm not on anybody's leash. The Club needed to know what this guy knew. Now you do."

"V. can handle herself," Chibs said, conveniently forgetting having to pull her away from the unconscious man.

"Then what the fuck did you learn?" Clay asked, impatient.

"Nords got leaned on to make way for the ATF," Chibs said. "By Russians with a beef with Sam Crow."

"Fucking Russians?" Clay looked momentarily puzzled. "What the hell do we have to do with…" he trailed off, focusing again on V. "Fuck."

"Yeah," V. nodded. "Sounds like this is blow-back from Leo." She sighed. "I'm sorry about that."

Clay shrugged her off. "We knew that was a possibility," he said. He looked at Chibs again. "What kinda condition is the Nazi motherfucker in?

Chibs couldn't help but smile. "Probably gonna feel pretty fuckin' stupid when he wakes up. Nose is broken. Ribs, probably. Needs some stitches." He shrugged. "He'll live." Then Chibs started to laugh. "He's fuckin' lucky he's still got balls, though."

Bobby was the first to laugh, but soon, every man in the room was chuckling, imagining the shithead's face when he realized he was getting his ass kicked by a girl. Only Jax didn't find it funny.

"This is fuckin' sick," Jax said, his voice rising to almost a panicked sound. He looked at V. "You shouldn't be doin' this shit." He looked first at Chibs, then at Clay. "And you shouldn't be askin' her to."

"Don't you dare tell me what who I should be askin' to do what for this Club," Clay say, warning in his voice. He looked at V. and smiled. "Sounds like you got the job done."

"Anytime," she responded.

Jax turned to stomp out of the room again, even more disgusted now than he had been earlier. Before he could get to the door, though, he met Happy coming in.

Coming into the room, Happy looked at V. "Off the bench?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"For the moment," she answered. She felt color rising in her cheeks. She hadn't been expecting to see Happy again so soon. _Chill the fuck out, _she told herself sternly. _It was no big deal._

As Happy walked towards the Chapel with Clay, he leaned towards V. and spoke more softly. "How that's new ink?" he grinned in a way that made it clear exactly what he was talking about. Before she could answer, he was gone.

Watching Happy and Clay leave the room, V. got an uneasy feeling she couldn't quite place. She looked around and it slowly dawned on her. "Where's Aisha?"

Bobby, who had only just stopped laughing, began again. "She and Tig," he said, between laughs, "went away for the weekend."

"Went away for the…weekend?" V. looked at Bobby as if he was speaking another language.

"I know." Bobby was still cracking up. "Can you imagine them checkin' in?" Soon, the whole room was laughing again.

V. didn't laugh. She didn't like what she was hearing. Slowly, she turned to Jax. "Can I talk to you for a minute?" she asked, her voice low. "Alone?" He looked surprised, and suspicious, but he nodded, turning and heading towards the back of the Clubhouse.

Jax led V. into the room she'd lived in, closing the door behind them. "What?" He was clearly pissed off at her, but curious, too. What could she possibly have to tell him?

"That sit right with you?" she asked, concern clear on her face. "Tig taking Aisha out of town?"

Jax shrugged. "Nothing about that sits right with me," he said. "Whole thing is creepy as fuck. But I tried to talk to her about it and ended up with a fuckin' gun on my head."

V. furrowed her brow. "What the fuck?"

Briefly, Jax told her about Aisha's stealing his gun and holding it on him and the resulting scene.

"Good Lord." V. sighed. "She's fuckin' serious."

Jax snorted. "Serious? She's fuckin' crazy."

"Maybe," V. said. She didn't look convinced. "I don't give a fuck if she thinks she's his toy or not, though. She might be OK with the sonofabitch killing her, but I'm not."

"Do you know where she came from?" Jax asked, his heart sinking. After being afraid for Aisha's life only a few hours earlier, he felt stupid for not putting the pieces together when he heard Tig had taken her to Tahoe.

V. shook her head. "Why?"

Jax told her about his phone call from Hale.

"Jesus Christ, Jax! You already knew that and it didn't occur to you that maybe this little vacation was fucking weird? Or that maybe it's odd Happy is back so soon?" Her voice was higher than usual. "Are you fucking stupid?"

Jax glared at her. "Guess I got distracted," he said, his voice cold. "Seein' you with blood all over you does that to me."

V. shook her head. "We don't have time for this shit, Jax. This isn't about me. I can take care of myself. She can't."

Jax nodded. Much as he didn't want to admit it, V. was right. "Let me go talk to Clay," he said.

When V. and Jax returned to the main room of the Clubhouse, neither of them noticed the looks they were getting. Chibs grabbed V.'s arm and hissed in her ear. "What the fuck was that about? You breakin' my balls?"

V. shook her head. Just as she was going to tell him she'd explain it later, Clay came out of the Chapel. She was moving towards him, her mouth already open, when Jax caught her arm. "Don't," he warned. "I'll talk to him."

"Talk to me about what?" Clay said, eyeing V. and Jax suspiciously.

"Aisha," V. said, ignoring Jax.

Clay frowned. "Don't really need your opinion on that," he said.

"Didn't ask if you needed it," V. said, angry and concerned enough not to watch her tone.

V. was surprised when Clay reached out and grabbed her arm. "Don't forget who you're talkin' to," he hissed, shaking her slightly. He looked up at Chibs. "Take her home," he said. It was clearly an order. Then he turned to Jax and motioned towards the chapel. "Come on, let's hear what you think is so damn important."

V. was furious as Chibs led her out of the Clubhouse by her elbow, but she had the sense not to fight him. Jax would have a better chance than she would of getting the truth out of Clay anyway. He led her not towards her car, but his bike, waiting for her to settle on the back before he got on, then pulling her arms around his waist. She didn't say anything, but her whole tensed body felt pissed off. He wondered, as he steered the bike towards her apartment, how that would play out once they got there.

Once they were inside, V. turned on him just as he'd expected she might. "What the fuck is this about?" she demanded. "Am I your project now? You my think you're my fuckin' handler?" The door had just clicked behind him when she shoved him against it.

Chibs grinned. She was _pissed_. It was cute, actually. He grabbed one of her hands hand from his chest and lowered it onto his crotch. "You can be my handler, if you'd rather," he said.

"I'm not fucking kidding!" She pulled her hand back as if it were on fire.

"I know." He was still smiling. "And if you wanna take a swing at me, princess, do it. But it's not gonna change anything. Clay doesn't trust you yet. Thinks you need…supervision. Just be glad I'm it." He linked his arms around her waist and pulled her in closer to him.

Her eyes were still blazing, and he thought for a moment that she would take that swing at him, but she didn't. He wanted to ask her about what she'd said to Jax, but knew it would only take things further off track. He wondered if he could tease her into relaxing against him, starting up where they'd left off against the garage. _Maybe give her a minute_, he thought. He looked over her shoulder around the little apartment. She was a shitty housekeeper. The furniture they'd broken the night before he'd left for Nevada was still where they'd left it, the room strewn with clothing, butts, and bottles. He lowered his head slowly, moving his lips to her ear. "Get on your knees." It was a risk, but a calculated one.

"I've told you," she hissed, her eyes flashing, "I don't take orders."

He grinned. "Sure you do." He moved his hands from her waist to her shoulders, shoving her down hard, so that she was forced to her knees in front of him. He kept one hand in her hair, holding her down, while he unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants with the other. Once she was faced with his cock, he lowered the hand from her hair, reasonably sure she would stay on her knees now, and ran his thumb down her jaw line. "If you bite me," he said, his voice remaining low, "I will break your jaw."

He tried to keep control of his responses once she was taking him down her throat, but it was more difficult than he'd anticipated. She kept looking up at him, her eyes still furious, as her lips worked around him, and it was more than he could take. "Christ," he moaned, his head thrown back against the door, coming into her mouth.

V. let Chibs slide to the floor and gave him a minute, maybe less, to recover. Then she fixed him with a still infuriated expression. "I hope you don't think you're done," she said.


	36. Chapter 36

Jax could barely contain himself. Seeing Clay order Chibs to take V. home only increased his anger. "What the fuck is going on?" he demanded. "Why is Happy here? Where did Tig really take the girl?" He pulled a hand through his hair.

Clay scowled and sat down in his customary chair. "Calm the fuck down," he said. "Far as I know, Tig took her to Tahoe." He fixed Jax with an unmistakable expression, telling him in no uncertain terms to stop asking questions.

Jax ignored the look. "Bulllshit." He lit a cigarette. "You figured out she might tie Tig to something and decided she had to go."

Clay's scowl deepened. "What the fuck do you know?"

"Got a call from Hale," Jax said. "Told me the ATF was asking Tig about some dead pimp and hooker with a missing daughter. If Aisha's the missing kid, she ties Tig to the murders." He looked at Clay hard, daring him to lie.

"And you didn't think you needed to share that intel?" Clay said, clearly growing more pissed by the second.

"Fuck no," Jax responded. "I've seen what can happen when teenage girls are in your way." Jax tried not to think much about the night he'd pulled Tig off the teenaged witness he'd been about to kill, but couldn't help but see her face behind his eyelids now.

Clay was silent for a long moment. "Every decision I make," he said, finally, "is for the good of this Club. And you better just get fuckin' right with that."

"I am never gonna be right with hurting women."

Clay sneered. "Maybe you should," he said. "Then maybe you could hold on to V."

"Goddammit," Jax yelled, his fist coming down on the heavy tabletop. "This isn't about V."

"You sure?" Clay asked, still smirking. "Seems to me you'd be a lot less interested in protectin' a woman who's not your concern if you could keep a hold on the one who is." He laughed. "Maybe I shoulda sent you out with V. instead of Chibs. Then you'd be busy bangin' her now instead of in here annoying me."

Jax's eyes blazed. Though it shouldn't have been surprising, given everything else Clay had done, he couldn't believe the bastard was practically admitting to throwing Chibs and V. together just to bother him. Neither was the insinuation that Chibs was currently having sex with V. lost on him—having seen them outside earlier, Jax knew Clay was probably right about that. And it only made him madder. "What the fuck do you think you're doin' with V?" he asked. "Treat her like she's lucky to be here, then put her on risky shit just because you know she'll do it? Or because you want to fuck with me?" He shook his head. "You keep wonderin' if she's loyal. She's too fuckin' loyal. Thinks she owes her life to this Club, so she'll do whatever you ask of her, and you repay it by what? Keeping her around?" He looked disgusted. "Guess it's too bad for Aisha you didn't figure out a way you could make her useful."

Clay stood, leaning towards Jax threateningly. "V. does owe this Club," he said. "You heard what that skinhead told them—we're gonna have more Russian problems, and that's all on her. She is goddamn lucky I keep her around, as much trouble as she's caused." He smiled cruelly. "Maybe you'd better save your indignation for the day I decide that's the wrong decision." He narrowed his eyes. "Know you couldn't do it," he said. "Think Chibs could? Or would I need to call out the real muscle on that one, too?"

Jax sat alone in the Chapel for a long time after Clay walked out, trying frantically to figure out what he could do to stop what he was almost certain was happening, or could have already happened, to Aisha. His mind reeled, his father's voice in his head, warning of how far the Club had gotten from what it was intended to be, and how much farther it could get. Would he ever have believed it would be this bad?

-0-

"Good God woman, don't you ever get tired?" Chibs was smiling as he grumbled, tired, but certainly willing to go another round if that's what V. wanted. They were still lying on the floor just inside the door, half-dressed. As soon as he had his head back from the blowjob she'd given him, he'd fucked her with his fingers until his cock was hard again, then turned her over and pounded her into the floor. Now she was lying on her stomach next to him, quiet, but her fingers trailing over his thighs.

She sat up, grinning. "No," she said. "Think you can keep up?" She was still wearing the bloody tank top, and looking down, Chibs saw the hand resting above his cock was smeared in blood as well. Her hair was tangled, her eyes shining.

_Jesus_, he thought. _You're beautiful._ He reached up and ran his fingers over the bruise he'd left the night before. "Yeah," he said, "I think I can keep up." He grabbed both her wrists and rolled her over, straddling her with her arms pinned to the floor.

-0-

Chibs awoke to screaming, then realized he was being hit. Sitting up, he saw V. was lashing at him wildly, not as she usually would, like a fighter, but as ineffectually as a child. In the streetlight glow from the window, he could see tears running down her cheeks. "No, God, please, no," she moaned.

He reached towards her, grabbing her shoulders and shaking. "V! V! Wake up." He remembered the night he'd run to her room in the Clubhouse after hearing the same screams. He hadn't really known her then, had no idea how deep her strength ran, and still it had been heartbreaking to see her so terrified. This was worse.

Once he was sure she was awake, Chibs pulled V. into him, wrapping his arms around her tight. She was sobbing uncontrollably, barely able to breathe. "Shhh, princess," he whispered, rubbing his hand up and down her back. "I got you. You're alright."

After V.'s sobs subsided, she pulled away from him. "I'm sorry," she said, clearly embarrassed.

"Don't be." He reached out and pushed the tangled hair from her face, not sure if he should ask. "What was it?"

She sighed, reaching down to the floor and fumbling for her cigarettes. Her face was eerily pale when illuminated by the lighter, then in shadow again. She drew heavily on her smoke, then handed it to him. "It's always the baby," she said, her fingers falling to trace the scar on her belly. "No matter how many times I'm there, I can't save him."

Chibs was stunned into momentary silence. It hadn't occurred to him that way. He'd always thought of V.'s attack as something horrible she'd lived through, comparing it, in his mind, to the day his own face had been scarred. He hadn't even considered the part of it where her child was killed and there was nothing she could do to save him. That part, he couldn't even imagine. His mind flashed briefly on Kerianne, only a toddler the last time he'd seen her. _Jesus,_ he thought. _How fuckin' stupid am I?_ He reached towards her again, his thumb tracing the track of her tears. "It wasn't your fault," he said, hating how ineffectual the words sounded.

V. smiled grimly. "You know," she said, "Jax thinks I'm all broken up with guilt about slitting Leo's throat, but that isn't it. The thing it's hard for me to live with is only being able to kill the sonofabitch once." She laughed and it was a hollow sound. "That shit today? Only part of that I find difficult is the stopping." She fixed him with a hard look. "You think you can keep that on a leash?" Her eyes were challenging, but there was something honest in her question, too.

Chibs didn't answer, just pulled her towards him again, not letting her squirm of the embrace even though she half-heartedly tried. _I have no idea princess,_ he thought, holding her against him so tightly it hurt.


	37. Chapter 37

Chibs hadn't expected a good morning, with V., after the previous night's breakdown, and he'd been right. She was quiet, cold. She'd responded when he'd come into the shower behind her and fucked her up against the wall, but he'd seen none of the grinning elation by which he was beginning to characterize sex with her. She seemed far away, as if she wasn't really paying attention at all.

By the time they got to Teller-Morrow early that afternoon, Chibs had long given up trying to engage her. Best, he decided, just to leave her alone and let her sort her shit out. He'd promised himself to stop playing the "what does V. need?" game, and that was exactly what he intended to do.

Dismounting, V. saw Tig and Happy's bikes both parked on the lot and headed not towards the office, but towards the Clubhouse. Though she'd been distracted for much of the night, this morning all she could think about was Aisha. She thought of the girl's face when she came to her apartment, the box of small niceties, and the package with the shirt and the gun—her strange, surreal calm; the fucking tea. She had no idea if Aisha had actually been in danger, or if Jax would have been able to stop it if that was the case. As V. opened the door of the Clubhouse, she realized she was holding her breath.

V. exhaled when she saw Happy and Tig standing at the bar with Clay, Aisha in her customary spot just behind Tig. _Thank God,_ she thought. As she got closer, she saw the blood crusted on the back of the shirt Aisha was wearing, then noticed her careful posture, as if she was holding herself still to avoid unnecessary pain. V. had broken her own fingers enough times to know that the way she was holding her left hand wasn't good, either.

V. hesitated before she spoke, not wanting anything she said to upset what might well be a very fragile situation. She looked at Aisha. "Good to see you." She looked at her hard, assessing other possible damage, and didn't see anything that concerned her too much. "I'm glad you're back." She raised her eyes then, looking around and meeting the gaze of first Tig, then Happy, then Clay. _Just in case any of you fuckers have any question about how I'd be reacting if this went any differently,_ she thought._ I may have no position in this Club, but I still want you to know that if you're gonna start taking out innocent fucking kids, you'd better take me out, too_. Then she turned back to Aisha. "You ought to have Chibs take a look at that hand."

Happy watched V. curiously. Her reaction to the kid's injuries was not what he'd have expected. Her face, which she likely thought was calm and blank, had registered first relief, then anger, then calm assessment, and then defiance. The relief and anger made sense, and the defiance was par for the course, but the assessment was something he wouldn't have guessed. It was very close to the look Clay had worn when he looked her over. There was a surprising lack of sympathy or concern for anything beyond her being alive and in one piece. Bemused, he continued to watch her as she turned on her heel and headed towards the office.

-0-

That afternoon, Clay came into the garage. "Ope," he said. "We gotta meet with Darby." He smiled. "Seems V.'s performance yesterday gave his man a bit of a scare. The want to come clean with all of their Russian intel before we sic her on anybody else."

Opie grinned. "Damn. She must have done a number on him." He pulled off his mechanic's shirt and reached for his cut.

Clay jerked his head towards the office. "Get V.," he said. "We'll take her with us so Darby can see just what his guys are afraid of."

When V. walked out into the lot, Chibs was standing with Clay and Opie, talking about what to expect from Darby. It was clear none of them was worried in the slightest. Still, she felt uneasy. "You want me to go with you on this?" she asked.

Clay nodded. "Yeah. Fuckin' Darby is gonna hate seeing that it really is a girl who's got his guys all spooked."

V. nodded. "I want my gun back." She spoke quickly, a little bit nervous, but feeling justified in what she was saying. All three men looked surprised. She continued. "I got no problem goin', on this or whatever else, but I'm not doing it unarmed."

Clay nodded slowly. "That's reasonable," he said. "I wouldn't want to go in with my dick in my hand either. Juice has it. You can go get it."

As V. walked away, Clay turned to Chibs. "She always that demanding?" he asked, chuckling.

"Aye," he said, thinking of the previous night. A slow smile crossed his face. Both Clay and Opie laughed.

The Dirty Dog bar was still in its afternoon quiet when Clay, Opie, and V. arrived. Darby was sitting with one of his guys at a table in the back, where they joined him.

"Jesus Christ," Darby said, eyeing V. "There's not that much of you. Hear Rex tell it, you're some kinda fuckin' Viking."

V. sneered. "There's enough of me," she said.

Just as Clay and Darby began to talk, the room suddenly and drastically changed. The first shot came out of nowhere, advertised moments before it rang out by Darby's dive under the table. Clay and Opie did the same thing, both of them instinctively reaching out to push V. down with them as they drew their guns. They were too late, though, as she'd already stood, her finger on the trigger. Unlike them, she recognized the men who were coming at them, and the ones who were coming from the other side, hidden in the bar's kitchen. She knew they'd been with Leo.

V. shot blindly until one of the men from behind her wrestled her gun away. Two more were restraining Clay and Opie now, and Darby was smiling, returning to his chair. There were eight Russians in all, the four who'd come in the door shooting, and the four who'd come from behind them in the kitchen. Two were shot, though nobody knew by whom, one through the thigh and one through the shoulder. Broken glass littered the bar floor.

The man who'd wrestled V.'s gun away held it to her temple, just as two others did to Clay and Opie. "Nice of you to bring her for us," one of them said. "Saves us a trip."

"What the fuck is this about?" Clay demanded, looking quickly around the room for and possibilities of escape and not seeing one. "What good is she to you?"

The man smiled. "This bitch has caused a lot of trouble," he said. "I'm lookin' forward to killing her real slow. And let it be a lesson to Sam Crow—stay out of shit that don't concern you."

V. didn't struggle. She too was looking around for a method of escape and coming up with nothing. The man holding the gun on her continued. "You're lucky," he said to Clay. "Since she's here, I don't have to kill any of your guys. Leave this alone, and maybe I won't." While the rest of them continued to guard Clay and Opie, he pushed V. in front of him back through the kitchen.

-0-

Jax's face went pale, then red. "What do you mean they took V?" Panic rose in his voice. "Took her fucking where?"

Opie reached out, grabbing Jax's shoulders. "Keep it together, bro," he said. "Listen to what we're telling you."

Across the bar, Chibs was calmer, but could feel a sick sinking in his stomach. He paced across the broken glass on the floor, trying to focus. "Did they say what they wanted with her?" His voice sounded strained even to his own ears. "V. can handle herself."

Clay thought about lying, but it seemed fruitless at this point. "This isn't about V. handlin' herself," he said. "This is about V. getting tortured to death, unless we do something about it really fucking fast."

Opie nodded. "These motherfuckers weren't kidding."

Clay turned to Juice. "Call Unser. See if he knows anything. Tig and Happy are on their way to see Darby and bust some fucking heads." He turned back to Jax, for the moment, sympathetic. "We'll find her."


	38. Chapter 38

His gun cocked, Happy listened intently outside the door of V.'s apartment. He could hear two voices inside, though they were too low to make out any words. He'd have felt better going in knowing there were only two of them, or if there were more than one of him, but circumstances being what they were, he couldn't exactly call for backup. After listening a moment longer and still not hearing any other voices, he reached out and turned the knob slowly and silently. The door was unlocked.

V. had been in and out of consciousness for the better part of an hour, lying on the floor of her apartment, gagged, with her hands bound. The two men were talking to each other in Russian, one of them gesturing towards her occasionally. There had been more men, earlier—she wasn't sure how many, but more—but they'd left these two as her guards. Luckily, as the door opened, they were both facing her, deep in conversation. V. saw Happy slip into the room, but neither of the Russians even noticed him until he was already shooting.

Happy crossed the room in two long strides, first making sure both the Russians were down, then looking at V. He was struck by how this was the second time in as many days he'd stepped back taken in a woman's injuries at a glance. V.'s face had none of the precision Aisha's had. Blood matted her hair. Her clothes were mostly ripped off. But she was conscious. And she was alive.

He untied her hands first, then pulled the gag from her mouth. One arm fell to her side at an unnatural angle. She looked at him, her eyes wide, not saying anything for a moment. "Thank you," she finally whispered, looking stunned to be alive.

Happy smiled slightly. Probably the only time he'd ever hear those words from this girl. She looked around. "Are you alone?"

He nodded. "Explain it all to you later," he said. "But I need the package Aisha gave you. The gun." When V. didn't offer its whereabouts, Happy continued. "Aisha's downstairs," he said. "She knows I'm here to get it."

Finally, V. nodded. "Top of the closet," she said, pointing.

After Happy had grabbed the plastic bag containing the gun and shirt, he returned to V. "Can you walk?" he asked. Reaching down so she could steady herself on his arm to stand. As she did, her legs buckled under her.

"Give me a minute," she said, gritting her teeth in determination. "The arm's broken, but I think I can make my legs work."

Happy didn't wait. He leaned down again, picking her up in both arms. She didn't struggle or argue, just leaned against his chest and let him carry her down the stairs.

Tig's apartment had been raided by the ATF and was in shambles. Seeing Aisha's face as she looked around the mess, V.'s heart hurt for her. She'd never paid much attention to her own surroundings—one place was as good as the next—but this place had clearly been important to Aisha. Happy gently sat her down on the remains of the couch.

"What's going on?" V. asked, her brow furrowed as she tried to work out why Happy and Aisha were here and nobody else was, and what the gun had to do with it. Happy and Aisha exchanged a look.

"There's something I gotta help Aisha do," Happy said. "It won't take long, but it's gotta be now." He pulled his cell from his pocket. "I'll get someone to come and get you, take you to the hospital."

V. looked at Aisha. "You got any clothes of Tig's around here? I need a shirt," she gestured to her own almost destroyed top, "and your shit isn't going to fit me."

Aisha nodded, walking towards the closet to find something. V. turned to Happy and spoke softly, so Aisha couldn't hear her. "I'm not gonna ask what you're doing. If you were gonna kill that little girl, you'd have done it already. But I have something I need your help with, too."

Happy looked confused, but nodded at V. to continue.

"Don't call the Clubhouse. Do whatever you gotta do with Aisha then come back here. It'll give me some time to pull myself together." Her face hardened. "I know where the rest of them are. Bastards took my there first. And I can find it again." She fixed Happy with a stare that made it clear what she was asking. "This time," she said, "none of them leave alive."

Happy nodded. He knew it would probably be smarter to go back to the Clubhouse and make a plan to take out the rest of the Russians. For V., though, this way would be better. He wasn't sure, looking at her, if she could ride or shoot, but he could assess that when he got back. He pulled his second pistol from his cut and handed it to her. "Stay here. Keep the lights off. I'll be back in 30 minutes."

V. nodded, then looked again at Aisha, who had handed her a t-shirt of Tig's and was now looking at Happy expectantly. _Whatever they're up to_, V. thought, _it's her plan._ The idea made her oddly more comfortable. Aisha reached behind her, finding an open bottle of Jack Daniels, and handed it to her. V. smiled. "Thanks," she said. "That'll help." Then, more softly, "good luck."

After Aisha and Happy left, V. drank deeply from the bottle and tried to take stock. Her mind began to replay the events since being grabbed at the bar, but she shook her head. _Can't think about that yet._ Instead, she focused on inventorying her injuries, dividing what was just painful from what would be debilitating. Her head and her face hurt, and she hated to think what they must look like—she could feel the blood dried in her hair—but she seemed to be thinking OK. Her left arm was useless, wrenched behind her and broken in at least one place. She'd been kicked and her chest and stomach hurt, but a couple of deep breaths assured her that no ribs were broken. Her major concern was her legs, still feeling unsteady even sitting down. _He's not gonna do this with me if I can't walk_, she thought. She tried again to stand and found she could, though unsteadily. _Come on, dammit. You've been through worse than this._ Pain radiated through her, and she fought desperately to keep her mind away from its source. _One foot in front of the other. Walk._

By the time Happy returned, V. had herself walking successfully, if painfully. She'd pulled Tig's shirt over her own, nearly screaming when she forced her broken arm through the sleeve. She thought about going into the bathroom, trying to see if she could do anything about the blood in her hair and on her face, but she couldn't stand looking at herself yet. Happy lit a cigarette and watched her walk towards him. "Can you ride?" he asked. "We don't have to do this now. You don't have to do it at all—we can take care of it."

"You know that's not how it would go," she said, wincing as she attempted to pick up her pace. "They're not gonna let me do it, not after this," she motioned to her broken body with her good arm. "And I need to do it." Her eyes were beseeching. "Give this to me?"

Happy had never been easily convinced by a woman who wanted something from him. Usually, he found that pleading look an annoyance. He was going to do this, he told himself, not because he had a soft spot for this woman-this shit wouldn't work on him from her any more than anybody else-but because he understood why she wanted it, and knew she was right that once she got back to the Clubhouse, there would be so much for her own good she'd never get back out to do it in time. "OK," he finally said, reaching a hand out to help her step over the scattered junk on the floor. "Let's go get these motherfuckers."


	39. Chapter 39

_This is it folks, the end of the line. Don't worry, though-V. will be back, as will Aisha. Indiejane and I are already dreaming up a third installment. Please let me know what you thought of how this one ended!_

-0-

It seemed like a long walk from Happy's bike to the Clubhouse door. Watching V. negotiate it in front of him, Happy wished he'd thought to park closer. At the warehouse, she'd been so efficient, moved so seamlessly, he'd forgotten how much pain she must have been in. Before she opened the door, he saw her stop, squaring her shoulders. _It's OK sweetheart,_ he thought. _You don't have to be strong for them._ But he knew she would try.

Walking into the room, V. saw Tig's murderous expression first, and knew the plan Happy had filled her in on before they took out the Russians had been revealed to him. _You don't deserve her, _she thought, _but I'm glad anyway._ She didn't say anything for a moment, just stood there, watching them, waiting for them to notice her.

It happened quickly: Gemma's gasp, Bobby's wide smile. V.'s eyes found Chibs, pacing, moving a pool cue from hand-to-hand. She met his eyes and saw in them the hell the night had been. His mouth opened, but he didn't say anything. When she stepped forward, she felt her legs begin to give out again, and then Jax was there. She hadn't even seen him before he was holding her, his arms keeping her up. It occurred to her, momentarily, to fight it, but she was just too tired. He took her to a chair, sat her down, kneeled in front of her. He wanted to touch her all over, make sure she was really all there, but the way she was holding herself, the blood all over her, stopped him. "You're alive." There was wonder in his voice. "How the fuck…?"

V. looked up, meeting Happy's gaze as she walked into the door she'd just been standing in. "Happy," she said. "They…" it felt oddly difficult to talk. "They took me to my apartment. He found me." She swallowed, knowing they needed to know more, needed to know the whole story, and feeling totally unable to tell it. She didn't look around the room, keeping her focus on Jax. She's seen his face over and over again on the backs of her eyelids, wondering how he'd take her death. She'd been sorry, in the moments before she thought she was going to die, that she hadn't tried harder to love him back.

The room broke into questions, congratulations, exclamations. The group began to crowd around V., everybody wanting to know what had happened. Only Chibs stood back. When she met his eyes again, V. saw the relief there, but also resignation, pain. _This is it, then_, she thought, her mind less clear by the moment. _This is him letting me go. _She tried to focus on the questions, the demands, but the room was beginning to feel far away.

"Give her a minute," Jax said, spreading his arms out as if to protect her from everyone else.

V. looked up, finding Happy. "Can you tell them?" she asked. "I…" she shook her head.

"Yeah, sure," he said. Looking at her now, at how small and damaged she seemed in that chair, it was nearly impossible for him to believe he was looking at the same woman who'd shot up a warehouse full of Russian gangsters with him only hours before. "Bastards took her back to her own place, like she said," he looked around, making sure he had everyone's attention.

"How'd you know to look there?" Juice asked, in awe.

Happy cleared his throat, then looked at Tig. It had been clear coming in that he'd already been appraised of Aisha's confession. "Took Aisha to get the gun," he said simply. He saw Tig's face tighten, but he didn't say anything. "Saw the lights on upstairs."

"How many?" Clay asked.

"Only two in the apartment," Happy said. "Eight more at the warehouse in Lodi."

"Warehouse. In Lodi? How do you know?"

Chibs was already moving towards the door. "Let's go fuckin' get them," he said. "Never should have let any of those bastards live the first time they showed up here."

"Done, brother." Happy responded.

The room was quiet for a moment, as the group put the pieces of what Happy was saying together. "Jesus, Hap," Clay said. "You went in there alone?"

"No," Happy said, smiling in spite of himself. "I was just fuckin' back-up, man." He smiled at V. "I'll take this girl in a fucking fight anytime."

"You took Aisha to get the fucking gun." Tig's voice broke the room's almost jubilant feeling. "So the stupid bitch could confess to a murder she didn't commit. And then you took another woman, who can't fucking stand up, into a goddamn gunfight? What the hell is wrong with you?" He stalked towards Happy, eyes flashing.

Before he could get to Happy, Gemma stopped Tig with a hand to his chest. "You know Aisha would have done it with or without help," she said. "And V.," she turned her eyes to the chair and smiled wryly. "We all know she does whatever the fuck she wants." There was no venom in Gemma's voice. _If I didn't know better, _V. though,_ I'd say she's glad to see me._

"We got some clean-up to do," Happy said, ignoring Tig. "Two bodies at V.'s place, eight more in Lodi. All shot. All my guns." He turned to V. and without him asking, she moved awkwardly and pulled one of his pistols from her waistband, handing it to him.

Clay nodded. "Juice, Ope," he said. Chibs moved forward. "I'll go, too." He wasn't looking at V. anymore, wasn't really looking at anybody. Clay nodded. It would be good to get him out of here.

Happy looked hard at Gemma, the nodded imperceptibly towards V., hoping she'd understand what he needed. Gemma did, and took V.'s arm. "Come on baby," she said. "Let's get you cleaned up."

"I'm fine," V. started to say, but she knew she wasn't. Honestly, she could use Gemma's help getting the blood out of her hair. So, leaning on Gemma as little as she could, she let herself be led back to the bathroom.

Once V. was out of the room, Happy spoke quickly and quietly. "It was brutal," he said. "Arm's broken. Head's been bleeding off and on for hours. Motherfuckers had her bound and gagged. They were fuckin' playin' with her."

Jax looked sick, but it was Chibs who asked. "The walking?"

Happy shook his head. "It's not her legs, man." He looked at Jax. "Make her go to the hospital."

Jax nodded. "Get some of her stuff from her place," he said to the Prospect. "Clothes and shit. Get that soap she likes out of her shower. Drop it at my house." He turned to Chibs. "You got her car keys? She can't ride on the bike."

Chibs looked at Jax for a moment, but couldn't even find the urge to argue. She'd gone to Jax, let him hold her up. It was clear that their thing, whatever it was, wasn't going to extend to her being hurt and scared like she was now. She'd made her choice. He felt the whole room's eyes on him as he pulled V.'s keys from his pocket and handed them to Jax. "Take care of her, Jackie," he said. Then he turned back to Happy. "Let's go get this shit taken care of."

Tig followed Chibs, Opie, Juice, and Happy outside. He grabbed Happy's shoulder, holding him back while the others walked to their bikes. "I meant what I said before," he said. "This doesn't change a goddamn thing. That lying gash? She's your problem now."

Happy shook his head. He wasn't surprised by this reaction. "She said to tell you she's sorry," he said.

Tig looked like he was going to spit. "Sorry? The cunt is sorry?" For some reason, the acknowledgement made him even angrier.

Happy thought of trying to reason with Tig, telling him that what Aisha had done was for him, likely the biggest sacrifice anybody would ever make for him. He knew it wouldn't do any good, though. Not now, anyway. Better just to let him get this shit out of his system while the girl was too far away to have to see it. "OK," he said, sighing. "Then she's my problem." He turned to walk towards his bike, then looked back at Tig. "You wanna come clean up some bodies?"


End file.
